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girlboybug · 11 months

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trash magic

"boy, you wanna hold me down and tell me that you love me?"

or the one where you get a tattoo for joel and he shows you just how much he appreciates it.

what’s playing 🎧 trash magic by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x reader

word count : 2k

*unedited*

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, joel is sooo super turned on by your tattoo, size kink, overstimulation, mentions of unspecified age gap, unprotected sex, tit-fucking, lots of heavy petting/groping, praise and hints of degrading, joel is a dirty depraved man muahaha

TRIGGER WARNINGS : uhh none come to mind but if there’s something that is triggering plz let me know. otherwise enjoy <3

a/n : hi guys i’m so sorry it took me FOREVER to update, i just wanted to post smth small bc i felt bad abt my lack of presence on here. i wanna say thank u so much for the love and support on my work it means the absolute WORLD to me. life has just been so draining and writing has fallen to the back burner and i HATE it but here, i hope this slightly makes up for it, i promise i have a lot in store!!

it had been just a little over a month. a little over a month without joel was time spent cruelly—longingly. and in all honesty, most people in jackson wondered why you were so distraught over his lack of presence, unable to comprehend why a young, pretty girl spent all her time trailing behind a stone-faced old man. but he was your stone-faced old man. his hard glare, monotone responses and hands that were perpetually stuck in fists, were all aspects you loved about him, despite the fact that they seemed to act as a wall to block everyone out. but what people didn’t realize was that those walls came right back down the second it came to you.

you figured their judgment lied in the point of view that they had of him. they only saw cold joel, unfriendly joel who had zero time for anyone except ellie and, maybe you. but they didn't see the way he was when you were alone. they didn’t see the way his face would drop all its coldness when he'd look at you, his fists following in suit and unraveling into gentle hands that would tighten around your jaw to pull you up for a kiss. instead, all they saw was a hardened old man leading on some girl young enough to be his daughter.

and even if he was, you didn't care. it was hard to care about anything when he'd press his mouth over yours, enveloping you in and cleansing you of everything you've ever worried about the second his tongue pushed past your lips. you replayed the way his scruff felt against your skin, your bare tummy…your inner thighs. you squirmed around in the booth at the tipsy bison, ignoring the comments about how you're going to regret getting the tattoo that you did, how joel is nice and all, but he's the last guy you should be getting a tattoo for.

you didn’t fucking care, the only thing that you did care about was how he would feel about it. and god, you hoped he liked it. you are definitely not one to handle pain all that well, and with the limited supplies cat had after tattooing ellie, you were extra nervous of all that could go wrong. but you missed joel so much, you needed something, anything, that felt like a piece of him was always with you.

the moth sticker on the neck of his guitar always did catch your eye, and when he was gone, you’d cradle his guitar, hold it the way he would and simply stare at the sticker. you imagined him the day he stuck it on, the way he’d look down at it, and maybe even smile to himself. it made your heart just about ache at the image.

you grew antsy to show joel the more you thought about it, but maintained what little patience you had left. you decided to keep it a surprise until you both got home, feeling as though the reveal was something that deserved to be private for you two alone.

—

“i have a surprise for you.” you whispered excitedly, clambering into his lap. he smiled up at you, pushing his glasses into his hair and shutting his book. his eyes fell to your fingers that slowly took their time unbuttoning each little button on the flannel that…suspiciously looks a whole lot like the one that went missing from his side of the closet.

“that so?” he hummed in that low gruff voice of his, a hot feeling stirring in his lower stomach as he watched the flannel begin to part the lower you went.

“mhm. i hope you like it.” you murmured, swallowing hard when you pulled the flannel open. his eyes lingered on yours for a moment before traveling down to the valley of your breasts, gasping when he saw a moth decorating your skin.

“are you out your goddamn mind?” joel exhaled in disbelief, tracing his fingers over the moth splayed across your sternum.

your hands gripped the fabric of your flannel, fingernail rolling over the button with nerves. “are you…are you mad?” you unintentionally whimpered, and he shook his head, sitting up with you in his lap, leaning forward and pulling his glasses back down to look at it better. “no baby no but, i…i coulda given you the sticker i had,” he laughed, unable to peel his eyes off of the tattoo. you rolled your eyes jokingly but in the back of your mind, fear was starting to settle in.

did he hate it?

“do you like it?” you asked quietly, praying he said yes. “oh, baby i love it,” he uttered heavily, bringing his stare from your chest up to your face. he pulled you by your chin, smile still on his lips while he kissed you. you cupped his face, thumbs circling around the stubble on his jaw, a giddy feeling beginning to bubble in your tummy.

“did it hurt?” he questioned with his lips still close to yours. you nodded, pecking him. “yeah. but i just thought of you the whole time,” you admitted truthfully, smiling fondly down at him. he shook his head, kissing you again. he made a sound of sympathy, running his thumb along your bottom lip. he stared at your chest before something clicked in him, making him flip you on your back.

he wasn’t phased by the surprised yelp that left you, instead he was focused on stopping your hands from trying to hide your bare chest with the flannel. “unh unh don’t cover up now, too pretty to be doin that,” he chastised lowly, devouring you with his eyes. you grew hot under him as he continued speaking. “looks so good on you…real good, wish i was there with ya while you got it done baby,” he groaned, hands groping your breasts, thumbs straying to caress the wings of the moth.

you whined hushedly, arching your back into his touch. “i do too but you were gone,” you formed something like a pout, pushing an upset finger into his chest. he tsked, holding your accusatory hand to kiss your palm. “i know, i know, already said m’sorry baby,” he murmured, taking advantage of the way you softened at his actions. he trailed kisses down your jaw, murmuring more apologies for his absences. his words were enough, and all you could do was just lean into him, taking every touch and kiss he gave you happily.

“can’t believe you did this,” he breathed out, pressing his growing bulge to your clothed core. you whined, sitting up on your elbows. your ankles lock around him eyeing him from under your eyelashes. “i just wanted to feel like you were always with me, i missed you so much joel,”

he breathed in sharply at your confessions, his cock twitching and heart racing. “oh baby,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead lovingly. “missed you too. thought about you all the time.” his hand rubbed your outer thigh making its way between your legs. “thought abt this,” he exhaled, feeling you buck down into his palm with a sweet little moan from your lips.

“missed it s’goddamn much, missed you the most though,” he muttered, the familiar twange in his voice sparking a smile across your face. he pushed your panties to the side, gathering your slick with the pads of his fingers, his cockhead weeping with precum when it registered just how wet you were with such small touches.

he pushed his middle finger in and wasted no time in fucking you with his digit just the way you liked. you cried out, gripping his wrist while he fucked into your little cunt with his finger, groaning to himself at how tight you felt.

he leaned down, kissing all over the tattoo, licking and nipping at your breasts while you tangled your fingers in his hair.

“joel—fuck, just, just—please fuck me,” you breathed out, the patience you’d been struggling to keep had finally ran out, and you couldn’t wait anymore, you needed to have him the way you’ve been craving all this time. “shit—alright, need it tha’ bad huh,” he grunted, pulling himself from out his boxers.

he held your waist with both large hands of his, pushing inside you, burying his face in your chest and groaning loudly at the way you grip him. you cried out, nails digging into his wide back, teeth grazing his shoulder while you tried to catch your breath.

the stretch burned and tingled, rippling through your skin and nerves in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. he pushed in and out of you slowly and gently, shaky little breaths that sounded obscene, fanned out over your lips from his parted mouth, and you breathed them all in, pulling him in closer.

his forehead rested on yours, kissing you while his hips grounded down into yours, taking his time to appreciate how fucking good you felt all around him. utterances of f-fuck, baby poured into your mouth from his, casting a warm sensation to spread across your cheeks.

he rocked into you, somehow going deeper with every thrust. knowing that he was filling you to the very brim sent him into a mindless delirium, and in return fastening the way he fucked you. gentleness morphed into rushed, desperation to feel you, every single inch and crevice and to make up for lost time.

you took him in, tightening your calves around his lower back, tugging at the back of his hair while his tongue lapped at your tits and sternum, losing his mind at the fact that you’ve marked yourself as his with this moth. your bold declaration of love and dedication to him turned him on in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom and the more he thought about it, the harder his hips crashed down into yours.

“missed me so much you had to get something that reminded you of me tattooed on ya’,” he grunted, grabbing one of your legs and haphazardly throwing it over his shoulder, shuffling even closer to fuck you harder. you couldn’t even reply correctly, all you could do was tearfully babble, nodding stupidly.

“love you so much joel,” you hiccuped, entire body being nearly fucked into the headboard, tits bouncing mesmerizingly with each thrust joel sends into you.

“say it again,” he groaned, cock twitching at your open admissions. “i love you, love you love you so much,” you cried, leg beginning to tremble on top of his shoulder.

“‘love you too baby, love you so goddamn much,” he breathed out in a rasp, shuddering a heavy sigh when you tighten and pulse all around his cock.

he loved the way his hands just engulfed you, his hand almost covering the entirety of one of your breasts, palming your soft flesh. you were so easy to squeeze, to pick up and hold and fuck, and joel took full advantage of his strength and how palpable for him you were.

with ease he pulled you up along with him, still impaled on his fat cock, feeling a familiar cockiness spread in his chest when you whimpered at the feeling of him so far inside of you.

he rested on his haunches, keeping you upright with his hands gripping your hips tight, face falling into your chest once more, his beard tucking the valley of your breasts.

your bodies flowed into each other’s fluidly, hips rolling and meeting each and every thrust like clockwork, his hips coming up only to be met with yours crashing down into his. it was addicting, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could barely even remember your own name, the only thing you could manage was fucking yourself onto joel.

“so deep,” you cried out through a series of whines and he laughed, bringing a big hand to your tummy, rubbing over where his cock bulged. you keened, lips trembling while you squeezed his shoulders. “i know baby i know,” he crooned, plastering an open mouth kiss onto you.

he slid a hand between your wet grinding bodies to rub circles over your soaked little clit, chuckling to himself when you choked on a sob at the contact. you shook like a leaf in his arms, his sweet little angel so close, he felt it in the way your cunt gripped his cock, and it filled him with pride knowing he was the only one who could unravel you like this.

“know you needa cum baby—you gonna ask me?” he growled in your mouth, biting your bottom lip testingly. you whimpered, arching your chest into his, a little pathetic nod following your actions. “s-sorry joel, please please let me cum, feels so good i-i dunno if i can hold it,” you whimpered, trying to fuck yourself on his cock.

the swirls from his fingers over your clit persisted and it made you vibrate in his hold, your impending orgasm making you lose what little control you had over your own body.

“c’mon baby give it to me, cum all over it,” he grunted gruffly, and you shook wildly, squeezing your eyes shut and collapsing in his arms while your orgasm reverberated all throughout your limbs

“joel—oh my—fuck!” you sobbed, bouncing on his cock while you rode out your orgasm, feeling milked dry as he rubbed your clit into over sensitivity.

“good baby, so fuckin’ good,” he drawled out lowly, patting your poor abused clit with his long fingers. “wanna do somethin’ for me?” he panted and you nodded eagerly.

“lie back for me,” he ordered and you obeyed, laying back down onto the pillows beneath you. he begrudgingly pulled out of your tight cunt, shushing you when you whimpered at the loss of him inside you.

he straddled you, feeling his cock ache in his rough palm when you stared up at him, resting on your elbows, cute tits perked and barely concealed from his flannel.

he shoved the material away from your flesh, jerking himself off before he put it between your tits. “push ‘em together f’me—ahh shit, y-yeah just like that—oh shit baby, keep lookin at me like that—“ he growled under his breath, fucking your tits with hard pistons from his hips.

“gonna cum, gonna cum on these cute fuckin’ tits baby,” he groaned, throwing his head back while you egged him on, whimpering and squeezing your thighs together at how he used your chest to cum, it was so hot seeing him fall apart on top of you, looking glorious and gorgeous even in such dirty circumstances.

you wrapped your lips around his leaking cockhead, the corners of your mouth peeking upwards with smugness at the way he gasped and shivered at your actions. “shit,” he groaned, his own orgasm taking over his body.

he came in your mouth, your tits still engulfing his shaft. he twitched on your tongue, whimpering to himself at the way you sucked on his tip. he pulled himself away from your plump lips, starting to soften from how sensitive he was.

he laid beside you, pulling you into his arms once more, feeling content and right with the world when you nestled into your rightful place on his chest.

“still in awe over you.” he murmured, running his fingertips up and down your arm. “you’ll get used to the tattoo soon,” you giggled and he shook his head. “meant you…you as a whole baby.” he whispered and you looked up at him, pupils dilating into hearts. “joel,” you uttered, leaning up to kiss him. “i love you,” you mumbled sleepily. he smiled, kissing your clammy forehead. “i love you too baby.”

#joel miller x reader #the last of us smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #game joel miller #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal #ellie williams tlou

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teddybeartoji · 1 month

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sooooo i heard someone mention selfship asks >:3…. i have one for mitoru n one for moji hehe

1) i can’t resist the hurt/comfort SO . how does toru cheer you up when you’re having a bad day?? and vice versa !!!!!

2) i alr asked this for mitoru but !!!! between you n toji ….. who is ”falls first” and who is ”falls harder”?? :3

OK THAT’S ALL (for now >:3)…… gl w work mickey!!!! 🫂🫂 i hope that you see this tmrw when you’re well rested!!! and that you have the coziest sleep in the meantime <33 smooching you gently on the bridge of your nose

HELLO ARI MY SWEETEST LITTLE ANGEL<333333333333 THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH FOR INDULGING ME ON MY SILLY LITTLE SELFSHIPS HEHEHEHHE

mitoru comfort..... wahh this is such a sweet question ari:(((( when i'm having a bad day it's all about quiet time and touch. he knows that words will have very little effect, so he just slings himself over me like a koala:((((((((( i'm talking like full body weight and we've definitely uhh almost fallen over like a million times lmao. doesn't matter whether i'm getting something to eat or i'm gaming or i'm already full-time rotting in bed - he's just gonna Envelop me<333 he will whisper ridiculous jokes in my ear and i will always laugh bc i am not immune to his stupidity<3333333

and when he's sad:(((((((((((((((((((((((pls i don't even wanna think abt it he's my baby:((((((((((((((((((((((( i hold him tight and i will play with his hair as i whisper praise and reassurance into his ears. he hides his face in my neck or chest or lap (this guy is a cat fr) and i keep him safe and sound, away from the world:((((((he's mine:(((((( you know he tries to hide whenever he's feeling bad but he can't escape me i will always be there. i'll trace his face and tell him how much he means to me just so he knows that it's okay to open up, that it's okay to let me in:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( ari i love him sm:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

omggggg moji hehehehehe nowwwwwww i haven't actually delved too into this so this is veryvery exciting. i will be first to fall though there's no question here. but it still wouldn't be a love at first sight thing. this is also a slowburn but a different kind from the mitoru one. it's even slower i think😭😭😭😭

ok but i think the moji dynamic is literally just him meeting a weird cat and picking it up by the scruff and going🤨🤨🤨🤨what the fuck kind of a creature are you🤨🤨🤨🤨but then i manage to woo him with my straightforward and snarky personality and he goes🤨🤨🤨🤨again bc what the fuck is happening to him🤨🤨🤨🤨i think i can entertain him so much that he has no other way to just fall in love with me

anywayy.................... as for who falls harder............................ how self-indulgent am i when i say toji............................................. it's gonna take him a while to do it but when he finds his person he's All In you know?? like there's just no going back... when it finally clicks in his head i think he feels a bit sick. happy and sick and nervous and giddy and aaaaahhh everything is too much!!!!! feelings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! crazy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but luckily i'm right there with him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i will bring him down to earth (to me) and then i'll welcome his shy love with open arms!!!!!!!!!!! ari i love him so much too i wanna cry:((((((((((((((((((((

wahhhhhhhhhhhhthey're both my babygirls i would do everything and anything for them<3333333 once again thank u so much for indulging me with this i'm having so much fun thinking abt the dynamic and the Lore hehehehe i love you so much and i am kissing every single one of your freckles rn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#my babygirls #i luv them #and ariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii i hope the movie is good!!!!!!!!! i hope you're having so much fun rn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i love you so sosoo much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#ari <3 #mitoru #moji #friends!!

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milkywaydrinker · 2 years

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Day 17. Fallen

And so, I've fallen behind. I hope you'll enjoy this follow-up to day 16 anyways.

Courtney had a busy day ahead of them. Really, their schedule was packed. Ever since they escaped the prison of Naraka, they’d had a lot on their plate. Literally. Who knew fallen angels were this gluttonous?

Courtney wasn't messing around; they knew that firsthand. So there they were, in the dilapidated kitchen, making sandwiches and preparing snacks. If they wanted to recruit those freshly freed corporate slaves into the chaotic life they deserved they needed bait. Saltines with a mystery spread of their own design were coming along nicely when suddenly, a strange force grabbed them by the scruff of their neck and pulled them through a dimensional hole.

That was… unnecessarily close. Norma and Badyah almost found out what they were. It’s not like they wouldn’t tell their friends eventually.

Eventually was the key word there. It was… hard. What would they even say? “Hey, so I’m not a demon actually. I was an angel all along! Can you believe it?” Yeesh.

They finished up with the snack table and moved on to decor. Paper chains made out of colorful scraps of park pamphlets and maps hung from the ceiling accompanied by origami stars and a singular, hand-shaped pinata. Everything was almost ready. They only needed to-

The door to their room opened slowly. The hinges were loud, left unoiled for decades. Norma walked in, her fingers clasped on her notebook. She glanced around the attic and she clearly made a note of the peculiar set-up.

“I see you’re really busy with, uh, this.” She wasn’t looking them in the eyes, and instead was focusing on the horn stumps on their head, as if she’d just noticed them for the first time. “I won’t take up much of your time, promise.”

“Don’t sweat it girl!” They tried to stay nonchalant and leaned back into one of the tables, accidentally putting their elbow into a bowl of dip. Grumbling under their breath, they tried to lick it off and somehow ended up hitting themself in the face. “Ow.”

That made Norma laugh, tension leaving her shoulders as she giggled at her friend’s antics. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” She shook her head. “You know we’re here for you, right?” she continued, finally addressing Courtney. “Me, Badyah, and Barney when… or if he comes back.”

“Uhh, yeah, totally!” They rubbed their nose. “What brought this on?”

“I just wanted to make sure.” She stole another glance at their horns. “It doesn’t matter what or who you used to be. You’re our friend now, we have to have each other’s backs.”

“I-” Oh no. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay. Good luck with your, whatever this is.” She left, her posture visibly relaxed.

“Damn it!” They hissed. Was this good? Bad? Norma knew. It was safe to assume Badyah knew as well.

They knew now.

Norma said they don’t care. It doesn’t matter to them.

That was never the point, Courtney realized. They knew all along their friends wouldn’t abandon them now. All of this, the planning, this party, it was for them. They were doing this for themself. Was that their thing? A fallen angel seeking some sort of atonement? What a joke. With a heavy sigh, they flopped down onto the floor. They wondered if Barney’s therapist accepted walk-ins.

#parkvember #dead end paranormal park #courtney dead end #norma khan

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sweethoneyjazzeuphoria · 2 years

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For the Fanfic writer ask game!

🎁👓🦋🦈annnnd 🚦 (and if there are any others you'd like to answer, pretend I included them, too, lol)

AHH! Thanks for the ask!

Answering backwards (because I can) and below the cut (because I wrote a LOT and I don't want to be that asshole taking up your entire dash):

🚦What sort of endings?

Happy. Always. Somehow. I do have a couple of snippets that end ambiguously or badly, but I usually follow those up with some sort of happy or happier epilogue or conclusion.

🦈Toughest character to write?

Uhh... that's hard for me to answer because most characters come easily to me. I just picture them in the situation in my head and they just tell me what they would do, if that makes sense. I only really have a hard time if they decide not to talk to me, then I usually work on something else.

🦋Favorite character to write?

I'm in a Halo stint right now so I LOVE writing the Master Chief and my OC Wylan. They play off each other really well and they get all sassy and they bring out the best in each other and just, ugh I love them so much. I'm also using them to help with my exposition writing which is great because John is super introspective and Wylan is fairly analytical.

👓What helps me focus?

Nothing. I tend to write in spurts and if I get stuck I'll move on to another scene or a different fic entirely. I have like 20 different docs in my Halo folder right now that are all bits of a larger story with at least 7 different arcs all of which are unfinished. So I just write whenever to blot bunny bites me, which is usually when new media for a fandom comes out or if I get obsessed with the media already out again. As for environment, it's usually as quiet as it gets in my rather active household with my dog Mina at the foot of my bed.

🎁WIP to share?

Oh boy here we go. I couldn't decide, so you get two from Halo (snippets in bold).

The first is John being introspective set after Shadows of Reach (not a necessary read and no spoilers):

Csodaszarvas had always been a looming figure in John’s childhood, the ringed moon sitting in the wispy nebula far above his head on Reach. It watched solemnly as he and his fellow Spartans learned and trained and grew, as they were shaped and molded into perfect soldiers. And sometimes, in the early days of augmentation, he watched it back. Long after the others had gone to bed and he couldn’t sleep, he would sneak up to the roof and look at the moon.

John always had an odd feeling about it, like it really was watching him somehow, and it had formed a strange importance in his mind. He wasn’t sure why or where the feeling came from, only that he was drawn to the satellite. He had never been there, and to his knowledge nothing was there, but when he thought of Csodaszarvas, he thought of it as a resigned home.

And that’s how he felt as they approached it now, the rocks and ice in the moon’s rings growing steadily larger in the Pelican’s canopy.

And the second is an interaction between John and my OC Wylan after lots of story (that I may or may not ever finish) from John's POV:

“They’re putting me in cryo again, aren’t they,” she said with a small sad smile. It wasn’t a question.

John, the great Master Chief, the Spartan, sagged defeatedly, “I’m sorry Wylan.”

He felt a pair of small hands cup his face, lifting his head up just in time for a firm kiss to be planted on his lips. Too stunned to react, he froze with his blue eyes open in surprise and let her kiss him. It wasn’t anything particularly spectacular, just the press of her soft mouth on his, but it was enough to send him mentally reeling even after she pulled away. His gaze followed hers as she smiled at him (some part of his mind supposed he was probably an amusing sight to see, caught completely off-guard and parted lips coming the closest to slack-jawed he’d ever been in his life), his eyes asking the questions he couldn’t form with words.

“You tried, John,” she murmured, her thumb running over the short scruff on his cheek, “That’s more than anyone has ever done for me.”

A knock sounded on the door and Palmer’s voice sounded muffled through the metal, “Chief, Wylan, Dr. Halsey wants to see you. It’s time.”

He heard Wylan sigh and watched as she flashed one more sad smile up at him before pulling away and donning her helmet. He watched as she walked towards the door and paused, turning her visor to face him. It took him a moment to realize that she was waiting for him to put on his helmet and follow, so with hasty, hesitant movements, he did exactly that.

The walk to the cyro pod seemed to last a lifetime, but John didn’t mind. It gave him the chance to memorize the way she moved, committing the sounds of her footsteps and the elegance she held herself with to a part of his mind he could hold close and never lose. She would be his greatest secret. The one experiment Halsey did her best to hide and bury, he would keep with him, if only in his mind. He found it a little ironic, the doctor’s favorite subject going against her to simply remember the one she hated. He was sure the irony was not lost on Wylan either. She was good like that.

In the blink of an eye, they had reached their destination. What had seemed like forever just moments ago was here, now, far too soon.

It wasn’t okay.

It would never be okay.

*sweats nervously* If you made it this far, I hope you like my writing!

#ask game #fanfic ask game #ageless-aislynn #halo #master chief #halo oc #wylan #my oc #my dog #Mina #the goodest girl #about me #rambles

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code-name-wraith · 2 years

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Yessirr I saw your request is open! May I request how is it like being roommates with our dearest omen in valorant HQ? It can be either platonic or romantic hehe

[ a/n: ahaha, ummm, uhh... i'm just gonna say i'm sorry for the wait anon, but i hope you enjoy this nonetheless! thanks for the request! i got so carried away writing this one i almost split it into two parts - say your prayers for all the text i cut out of here.. ]

• ok guys, it's about time for me to simp for omen again.... sigh....

• at first, things are rough. omen isn't exactly the most welcoming to people, especially strangers he's expected to share private space with. instead of closing the distance, he takes to what he does best and doesn't even look at you - he slips in and out in your shadow, and at first you'd think he doesn't even come back from missions. i like to think that you two didn't even have an introduction, you just opened the door to an empty space that looked more like solitary confinement than your new room. the silence was... unnerving.

• but on the bright side, you catch him eventually! he almost crushes your wrist when he feels the air move behind him, but your pained yelp has him letting go right away. he turns his body to look at you, like a machine, and you beam. he's blinking rapidly at the excited gesture, despite the less-than-favorable first impression. personally, i think it would be weirder if you weren't excited - i mean, this is your absolute cryptid of a roommate caught on camera.

• you take his hand, shake it with your smile that would've tasted like the sun, and introduce yourself. he was star-struck. someone that looked at him not as a monster, but another human. even in the softest, most gentle stares, he could see they knew he was different. their voices treated him like he was an animal and he'd come to accept they'd never change - before you, anyways. he finds himself being dragged along, like a cat by the scruff.

• eventually, he starts lurking around more, and you're delighted to actually see him in the room one day. "omen!" you cheer, running over to him, but cautious not to invade his space. "welcome home!" a light blue glow comes to his face, but you're not really sure what it means. you find yourself leaning on the edge of his bed next to him, and most would say talking to an omen is like talking to a wall, but you know he listens.

• you come home to headquarters one day, and you come to an empty room, a gray scarf nestled on your nightstand with a note between the cloth. a simple "thank you" is scrawled onto the paper, melting away into gibberish at the end like it was rushed, but you still melt at the sight. you cherish that scarf with your life, because that thing is the labor of your forlorn love and you accept it graciously. you wear it everyday, but don't tell where you got such high-quality clothing from. no words are exchanged, but you give omen cups of tea and new, hundred dollar yarn and the little chain of gifts continues.

• (that night, you thought the room was empty, but omen stares from the creak you left in the door, and watches how you hold his gift like liquid gold. he smiles to himself, but disappears when you look back. just like any shadow.)

#valorant #valorant writing #valorant headcanons #valorant omen #omen valorant #omen x reader #reader x omen #valorant x reader #reader x valorant #husband #part 2 when

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satingrove · 4 years

Text

the hours

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader

summary: obi-wan pays you a visit before leaving for kamino

content: uhh SOFTNESS, fluff, a cute obi-wan and youngling moment, steamy meditation, more fluff, aotc obi rights, no gender specification

wc: 3.136k :’)

Lost a planet, Master Obi-Wan has. How embarrassing... How embarrassing.

He had one important trip to make before seeking out said planet.

Obi-Wan nods to those who pass him by, walking briskly through the Temple with his hands clasped in front of him, thinking on Yoda's other (more helpful) words, go to the center of gravity's pull and find your planet, you will. It would still be a while before he did so.

He nears an opening of transparisteel, scratching his beard and peering out of it - as if Kamino would appear in the sky, knowing it was sought after. But it's not there, as expected.

Sighing, Obi-Wan closes his eyes, focusing on the surrounding energy, the swirls of air and the sound of quiet walking, trying to single out a presence by the trace of a Force Signature. He gets just a whisper of it when his attention is broken by two small hands tugging at his cloak.

"Obi-Wan!"

Katooni, a youngling Tholothian, starts to wrap her short arms around Obi's leg, who chuckles in return. His hand comes to rest on her head.

"Little one, are you supposed to be in the library with the others?" Obi-Wan doesn't take an accusatory tone - it's laced with amusement at the youngling petting at his calf.

Katooni turns shy, hiding her face and slowly trying to inch away. The taller of the two crouches, his cloak pooling generously around him at the floor. Obi-Wan meets her at eye level, ensuring her comfort.

"I'm not here to get you into trouble, Katooni. Is that where you're supposed to be?" He displays clear and attentive empathy, though not without a trace of austerity.

Slowly, delayed by gentle shame, the Tholothian's head nods up and down.

"I was just taking a walk for a break, Master Kenobi."

He smiles, rising to stand and extending his pinkie to her, "Then I suppose I'll accompany you back, young one?"

She takes it with a soothed giggle, and he realizes the words that stuck with him from so many months ago, ones you had uttered, were perhaps true - he was indeed favoured among the young ones of the Temple, and it's more evident now than it had been before - Katooni isn't fretting about going back to the library to read up on ancient texts; she's content holding his pinkie with her whole hand, skipping twice to each step he takes.

And Obi-Wan supposes that it isn't a bad thing; to be admired in such ways, yet he does worry about the influence he gives. Was it respectable enough? He never thought he'd earned the right to be idolized. Then again, the child grasping his finger does warm his heart.

The fretting about rightful heroism is soon behind him, what with the more pressing matters on his hands - a voyage to a (seemingly) non-existent planet, and before that, a visit to his dearest.

Obi-Wan crouches before Katooni a second time, just shy of the library.

"I need you to tell me something very important before you go," he sets up his question in an enthusiastic whisper - a secret from everyone else in the Temple. Lightheartedly, he pokes her shoulder, "Have you seen my friend?"

"Oh, I have!" Katooni starts, excited that she had an answer, "I last saw them heading that way, before-" and then she stops, ears starting to burn with the heat of embarrassment. But it's all Obi-Wan needs to know. You'll be in your quarters.

"Ah, before you ran into me and tugged my poor cloak?" His right eyebrow raises.

"Mhm!" She chortles, almost proud of herself. Obi-Wan gives her the warmest of smiles.

"It would be best to stay in there this time." He motions to the library, softly stern, "Although, I'm not exactly sure how you escaped in the first place." Winking, a final gesture to let her know that he's not mad, he makes to cross the hallway.

Obi-Wan hardly turns the corner before Katooni yells her sweetest "thank you!" to him, scurrying back into the vastness of history books. As he weaves his way through those high-ceiling corridors, he ponders the affection he's always given. Had the little ones seen him as a father figure? He wasn't even positive what that was supposed to mean - although, Qui-Gon was the closest he'd ever had to one. The thought stings him for a second, a brief pain in his chest, and he brushes it off with his well-known stoicism, ready to fall into your arms instead for one restoring night.

Hood drawn up, he ensures the space around him is empty, pressing the button to your door. Unusually, he hadn't knocked, yet he slips in as it hisses open.

A sigh of relief blows through his pursed lips at his successful venture to forbidden grounds; and like clockwork, his arms fold as he leans his side into the wall. He smirks when you finally see him.

"Maker, I wasn't expecting you-" Your hand on your heart almost worries him.

"Am I not welcome?" He asks quizzically, looking particularly regal, features made dark by the shadow of his hood. Jedi Knight was a rightfully chosen word.

He knew he was indeed welcome.

"Oh, don't be a fool." You kiss his lips in a short but sweet peck, tangling your fingers in the length of his auburn hair and taking his hood down. It's not enough for him.

"You'll have to kiss me longer than that." He talks low and deep against your lips, pressing them back together for a lingering moment. As it consumes your senses, it releases all of his pesky, pent up stresses. His whimper lights up your insides.

As you come apart for the second time, his hand finds the back of your neck to cradle it delicately, eyes switching between your left and right. "What if I am a fool?"

You jab a finger into his side, "You're not", and he huffs.

"Coming here, I'd say so." He waits with an expectant look, one that makes his eyes crinkle with the smile he's trying to put off.

"Hey!" You swat at his shoulder and he takes it with exuberance, "we're careful enough about it."

Unwittingly, you try walking back to your notebook, in which you were scrawling details about deadly Felucian spore plants.

"Oh, are we?" His hands catch your waist, bringing your back swiftly to his chest. Hands creep under your clothing and caress your bare skin.

It instantly makes you weak against him, powerless to put any stop to it, and you let him continue his loving, handsy, research of your body. "Would you prefer we do this outside?" His mouth is dangerously close to nipping your ear.

"Obi-Wan..." You whine, only giving him extra incentive.

"I thought we were careful enough..."

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck, his head lazily falling into yours. Carefully, he places open-mouthed kisses all along your collarbone. He's not thinking about Kamino, nor how he'll get there. It's all forgotten as he adores you with his lips.

It feels so soft and elegant, he's so soft and elegant, but even as he's lost in his amorous deeds, the nature of his visit hasn't escaped you yet. Secrecy lead you to plan specific times to indulge in each other, although here he is, a doting surprise.

You reluctantly hum a pushy sound. He stops his movements but his lips stay connected to you. Obi-Wan hums a questioning hmm? in return.

"Did you have something to tell me?" You take him by the shoulders, all of a sudden worried that he most likely did and that it wouldn't be your favourite piece of news.

"Oh," he grumbles in slight annoyance, not at you but at the thought of leaving you in a few hours' time. "Yes, love, I did come to speak with you about something."

Your stomach drops, something he senses, and he hurriedly implores you not to panic. Taking both your hands in his, he leads you to your bed and sits down with you on its plush mattress.

He gets on with it, "I'll be leaving soon," starting slowly, gauging your reactions, "to look for a planet erased from the archives. I don't know what I may come into contact with."

The something he came to talk about doesn't startle you as much as you'd expected. Obi-Wan is a very capable Jedi, and he usually left little room for you to fret over his well-being. That said, you did anyway, all the time. His penchant for being mouthy at odds happened to cost him some blood, but this seemed as normal a job as any.

"I came to tell you," he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes following it, then meeting your gaze again, "and spend the rest of the time I have with you."

His lips envelop yours once more, this time with more bursting energy, eagerly as having an itch that couldn't be scratched. And then it all turns soft, his hair tickling your cheek as he rubs his face along your neck, taking in your scent and trying to memorize it to the best of his ability.

"How long is that?" You ask, ruffling his neat, long hair.

"Few hours." He mumbles into your skin, beard scratching against it but it's nothing you mind. "Almost the night." He adds.

The night.

"You know, I'll have to be very centered when I leave."

You do know, and it means he'll want to meditate for a while.

"Of course," your hand finds his cheek, the scruff soft under your palm, "take your time."

Obi-Wan is grateful for your constant understanding, but he has other plans - he never meant to come into your quarters to deny you his attention. You're glad to have him near regardless of what he does, yet his hand rests on your thigh and his eyes turn pleading.

"I thought you could join me." It's less of a question and more of an implication. An implication that it wasn't going to be a traditional meditation session.

You can't muster a proper response, a quiet oh coming out in its place. And as words fail you, you nod your head in agreement. Enthusiastically.

"Very well." He whispers hot against your skin, moving his head from it and standing up - except he starts to take off his cloak and utility belt. A breathy noise, and you earn yourself an amused look from him. "What? Would you rather do it for me?"

You smile charmingly, feet gently kicking at his shins, "Is that what you want?"

And he feels it again. The need to make his love known.

"I couldn't say no, darling." It leaves his chest in a hum, body leaning down for his lips to touch your forehead. Your fingers hook onto his belt, tugging him towards you and threatening to make him topple onto the mattress. He grumbles in happy exasperation, the kind that leaves him feeling overwhelmingly fond of you as you pull it off of him and neatly lay it on the sheets. He smiles at the care you give to himself and his possessions.

His fingers trace the edges of his wrap. He gathers some of it and holds it out to you. Your eyes narrow.

"More?" Your hands slowly extend to the fabric.

"Won't you?" He asks, and you sense a trace of timidity in it that makes your cheeks burn. To have flustered Obi-Wan again, for who knows how many times it's been now - you feel precious. And to him, you were just that.

The back of his hand slips gingerly down your face as you pull, the fabric wrap starting to fall off his shoulders, leaving him in his undershirt. You ravel it around your wrists and lay it beside his belt.

"That's better, thank you." He pushes the sleeves up to his elbows, the fabric loose and airy on his body, and he's effortlessly handsome.

You feebly try not to ogle him, but he's loosened the collar and his chest peeks through the linen, the image romantic on its own. He feels your stare, chuckling sweetly at your enamoured face, "I feel warm when I'm with you," giving a reason to his lack of layers.

You feel warm, too. Obi-Wan guides you to stand - ever the gentleman - and doesn't let you go while he rolls out your intricate rug from Jakku that had been sitting in the corner. Then he does let go of you, sitting down with his legs in front of him, hair falling princely on his forehead.

"Sit, my love." He motions his head, tilting it towards the spot in front of him. You're not sure why he's not sitting cross-legged, but you follow his lead and sit before him with a straight back.

"No, no. Closer." You inch forward. He extends his cheek out to you with closed eyes, waiting for his kiss. It comes as second nature to you, without a second thought, giggling quietly as you peck his face and he joins the laughter when he feels it. "Now, turn around."

How was this going to go?

You throw him a look, to which he nods his head rigidly. Turning your body before him, everything then becomes a soft and serene blur, laced with every drop of love you held for the other. His arms pull you snug against his front, chin hooking onto your shoulder.

He inhales and exhales deeply along with you, chest firm against your back, bodies moulding.

"That's it," he coos, hands pressing against your stomach, "breathe with me, feel everything..."

All you can do is what he says. The act is new but the feeling isn’t foreign; Obi-Wan’s arrays of intimacy are common, but this is different, the anticipation aloft and the touches silken.

There's the sound of air passing in through his nose. His head further lolls onto you, your lungs filling shakily, the feeling sweet and kind. Your wrists, your neck, seemingly everything has a throbbing pulse. Obi-Wan doesn't miss your wavering breaths, deft fingers making quick work of soothing your muscles.

"So tense... it's only me, darling."

His words surround you. Melodic and steady, "Let go."

You do, floating and falling.

You sense everything - the tide of his breathing, his gentle humming, the way he keeps you tight against him like he couldn't go without; the clement whispers, feeling perfectly flush with the man who brings you nothing but pure, good feelings - like it's the only thing he knows how to do - even as he does everything else with poise and taste.

This is no exception. The sensuality is tangible - the unknowing Jedi who roam the hallway outside could have felt it, should have felt it, if not for Obi-Wan's ability to be subtle about making you weak and entirely his.

"Trust me." He brushes up the column of your throat, cautiously bringing your head back into the crook of his neck as he cranes his own to make space. He notes the fluffy feeling of your hair, arm crossing your body. You murmur, "I always trust you."

Stars, if he didn't love to hear it.

"Tell me what you see when you close your eyes."

In the blackness, there comes nothing.

"I see- I don't see anything. I only feel you..."

And what did he expect?

There wasn't anything to see when there was so much to feel. His tender hand on your throat and his legs hugging yours, you stood no chance at finding an image in your mind.

"Good," he presses his face to yours, "nice, isn't it?"

You sigh, completely enveloped in him - it's physical and emotional. Obi-Wan groans lightly at your sound, further burying his face into your curve, trying to grapple that this wouldn't last forever.

And inevitably, the falling continues. The fog of slumber starts to cloud your head by Obi-Wan's effect, that which leaves you too calm to stay awake in his arms. Fighting it isn't of any use; his soothing energy had always been a mystery, what with its pleasant gentleness that is unassailable against your consciousness.

But the moment is too sweet to lose.

He exhales an ahh of acknowledgement for your perseverance in staying awake.

"Obi, I'm not sure how this is helping you clear your mind-"

He supposes he hadn't been clear himself - learning your body under the expanse of his palms, through the matching time of your breathing, was a meditation in itself.

"But it has, my love."

It all starts over again. The lush sensations and the rush of your heart. Your senses dialed with his fingertips pressed on your wrists, finding the rhythm of your aliveness; the only thing he would hope to be sure of in the coming years that neither of you expected yet.

You both reach a point of euphoric tranquility - two words you'd use to describe his company - chests expanding and deflating at the same, slow rate. It had come to an end.

"You did wonderfully for me." A lasting kiss on your neck as he savours it. His lips send you into pleasant, sunny rapture.

The occurrence leaves you in a hazy state, all that comfort pressed against you is taken away as you both rise, sleepily, happily, and stumble into your bed.

"I don't want to wake you when I leave," Obi-Wan says, considerately and kind, propped up over you on his elbows, "I'll be careful."

"Don't be," and he melts, "I'd hate to miss you."

It’s the saccharine pieces of time that made him whole. Without another word, he kisses you; conveying the completeness that he feels by your hand, discreetly hungry but overshadowed by a chaste and giving nature. It's light and loving and drawn out long.

Then he falls grandly into the sheets beside you, arm heavily draping across your stomach, your lips missing his but you know he needs the sleep. And as the morning came, he was already gone. A vague memory of his departure floods your mind, playing over your closed eyelids - you can see it - the way he had kissed your temples, both lazily and warm, your arm semi-consciously reaching out to him, which his lips had touched too, held by both his hands.

What you hadn't seen, was Obi-Wan looming in the doorway, overseeing you drifting back to dreaming, cloak not keeping him nearly as warm as you did. He blew a kiss that you didn't catch, but knew that had you been awake, you'd have thrown it back to him.

He hopes Kamino will be a simple, touch and go engagement.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan imagine #obi wan fluff #obi wan fanfiction #star wars #star wars imagine #userkarina #ewan mcgregor

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magicman111 · 3 years

Text

Amphibia AU -- Quisling Marcy -- I Gave You This, I Can Take It Away

A scenelet from the ‘Quisling Marcy’ AU:

Polly had done it. She snatched Box from its pedestal and the flying castle was now slowly making its descent through the orange skies. The surrounded ragtag group of heroes cheered her name. They’d won.

“Not so fast!”

They turned their heads and there stood the towering, menacing form of Andrias before one of the shattered window panes.

“You’ve all got spunk, real chutzpah,” he commended them, though his contemptuous sneer was apparent. “But this ends now.”

He took one giant step aside and what they saw chilled them to their bones. There on the window ledge stood Marcy, that manic, borderline unhinged look corrupting those once innocent, wide eyes. Pinned firmly by his throat against her breastplate was none other than Sprig.

“Guys!” Sprig gasped as he struggled vainly to pry himself from Marcy’s grasp. “Don’t listen to these bullies! I’ll be fine!”

“We’ll see,” said Andrias. “Now put back the Box, or...” He then raised his mighty hand, his thumb and middle finger pressed together. “This twerp learns how to fly.”

Anne’s brain couldn’t process what she was witnessing. No matter what she’d done or misguided she’d been, the Marcy she'd known since pre-school wasn’t capable of doing something so cold-blooded. This was the same girl who cried buckets when she accidentally stepped on the walk back from school. It just wasn’t in her DNA.

But then again, she had grown so accustomed now to everything she thought she knew being

pulverised on a near regular basis, maybe she was mistaken once again?

“Marcy,” her voice began to break, her eyes brimming with tears, “... p-please. You wouldn’t...”

Her direct plea appeared to reach her friend. Marcy’s scowl faltered, if only for a moment, and her hold on Sprig’s throat eased up.

“I never wanted anyone to get hurt, Anne.” The remorse in her voice was palpable, however hard she tried to bury it in her spite. “But you’re the one making me do this.”

Marcy then took Sprig by the scruff of his neck and dangled him as far as her arms could reach past the ledge. All she had to do now was let go.

“NO!” both Anne and Hop Pop cried.

“I gave you this, I can take it all away,” she warned them dangerously, her breath now rattling.

“Now put. The Box. Back!”

“Anne, don’t—” Sprig was silenced by a violent shake of Marcy’s wrist.

There was no way out of this. Marcy wasn’t bluffing. Worst still, even if they did comply, Anne knew she had no guarantee they’d actually keep their word. They held all the cards here.

It was as if the largest hunk of ice had dropped into her gut and it drained her of all her fight. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Polly, do what they say.”

The little tadpole did what she was told and returned the Box to its place on the pedestal. Within seconds, the castle’s engines whirred back to life, bringing its descent to a halt. The red-eyed ‘Frobos’ picked her up and returned her to the captured group, where her first instinct was to embrace the lifeless head of her fallen robot friend.

Anne looked from the sorrowful display back to Andrias, who remained there in the sidelines like the dark, twisted puppet master he was. However obviously futile it was to try and appeal to the giant salamander's sense of decency—there was little to none to be found—what other choice did she have?

“Okay dude, you have what you want, now please, just let him go,” she beseeched him. “He’s my best friend. In this world or in any other world.”

There was a time and place for such heartwarming sentiment, and unfortunately for Anne, right now was neither.

When those fatal words reached Marcy’s ears, something deep within her very core churned. Something hideous. Her cheeks burned scarlet. Her teeth gritted so hard they threatened to crack. Her chest began heaving up and down so violently, her heart could have exploded in sheer primal rage.

Sprig was the first to notice.

“Uhh, Anne...?”

Then did Andrias. Inwardly, he grinned the most malevolent of grins. He truly relished these rare moments when things lined up just perfectly.

“That’s the thing about friends, isn’t it? The more you love them, the more it hurts when they go. Allow me to demonstrate...”

The snap of his big blue fingers echoed ominously throughout the throne room. All eyes were immediately back on Marcy.

Marcy’s gaze, however, was fixed squarely on her supposed “best friend”. Through the simmering hot tears, if looks could kill, Anne would be impaled square through the chest with a flaming sword where she stood.

She didn’t even look back at the squeaky red toy for which she had just been passed over. No. Her focus was on photographically memorizing the next look on Anne's face for the rest of her life.

When the horrifying realization of her error dawned on Anne it was too late.

Marcy let him go.

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ohimjustagay · 3 years

Text

I miss Hange so fucking much so I went digging for the most complete version of their oldddd interview I could find. (Credits for the translation go to an anonymous 4chan user)

Q: So, is this not like they’ve already given up on you?

Hange: Probably! Mike and Erwin say nothing about it. Ah, but Levi…

Q: Did he say anything about it?

Hange: Uhh… from time to time I black out from getting hit, then when I become conscious again I would get splashed at and somehow… it’s like having a bath.

Q: It is… done by force, isn’t it?

Hange: That, perhaps, is more like cleaning than having a bath! I think he planned it all out with my subordinates, but because I lost consciousness I can’t be sure.

Q: Everybody’s names have been mentioned, so we would like to hear about your interpersonal relationships. We’ve got a question that asks, "What impression do you have” of firstly Commander Erwin, then Captain Levi, Squad Leader Mike and Deputy Leader Moblit.

Hange: Right… I’ve known Erwin and Levi for a long time. Erwin actively supports my research, so he’s helped me a lot. According to what he has said, I think he also holds some kind of doubt towards the structure of this world.

Q: What about Captain Levi and Squad Leader Mike?

Hange: Levi you see, is bad at talking and a clean freak so everyone gets disillusioned, but he’s a good guy who thinks about his comrades. He has a rough attitude, but he listens to my research results and has the composure to only think about it.

Q: Isn’t he’s a good superior officer?

Hange: (cut off) …Yeah, it’s a strange attitude to people he meets for the first time, but the position of Squad Leader is justified.

Q: What impression do you have of Deputy Leader Moblit, who is also an adjutant?

Hange: Moblit? He’s an outstanding adjutant! His sketches used for research are good too. But, the fly in the ointment is that he always comes to stop me when I’m getting to the good part.

Q: Doesn’t he do that because he is worried for you? Among the questions we got, some of them such as, “Aren’t you worrying him too much?” and “Please let him rest once in a while” showed concern for him.

Hange: (omitted)

Q: We have received many questions about your interpersonal relationships, such as, “Do you have any friends and acquaintances?” and “Who do you get along with?”

Hange: Friends and acquaintances huh… Like I’ve said before, I adjust my daily life cycle to the Corps’ movements.

Q: Your schedule is filled with research and duties, I see. In between all that, is there anyone you often talk to?

Hange: Ah, it depends on the plan or formation but… I’m often stationed close to Levi’s squad, so I think we do talk a lot.

Q: You have mentioned that you’ve known each other for a long time.

Hange: Levi’s rough with his words, so it sounds like he’s angry, right? But he doesn’t truly feel that way, so there are times I help to explain that to everyone in his squad. Interpretation, people have called it.

Q: Other than Levi, who else do you get along with?

Hange: When I see the veteran soldiers who enlisted around the same time as me… if they’re still alive, that is… I would talk to them a lot. Also my subordinates.

Q: I see. There are also many questions like, “Can you see with goggles?” and “How good is your eyesight without glasses?” about your glasses or goggles.

Hange: Without glasses I can still see the face of the person in front of me, but it’s inconvenient during battles or research, I guess. Glasses can easily fall off, so I don’t use them on missions. There are skillful soldiers who can operate 3DMG with glasses, you know, but I’m not very good at it.

Q: We also have a question about your glasses and goggles that goes, “They seem expensive, how many spares do you have?”

Hange: I keep one or two pairs on hand, if they’re both broken I claim them with the Survey Corps’ expenses.

Q: You put them down to expenses!

Hange: But they’re necessities, so it’s a required expense! I don’t do things like Levi who claims expenses for the black tea he favors, you know?

Q: That black tea… is paid for with expenses.

Hange: Yes, glasses and black tea, they’re all supplies for the whole Survey Corps. It’s because our lifestyle is guaranteed like this that there’s no shortage of youngsters who aspire to be soldiers.

Q: You’re certainly right about that. Another question we have is, “Do you do housework?”

Hange: Like cooking, or cleaning? Hmm, I’ve done it before, on duty.

Q: Trainee soldiers cook their own meals, and on expeditions cooking for yourself is also a must.

Hange: Well, for me right now, as a Squad Leader, I leave most of it to my subordinates I guess.

Q: We also have the question “What’s your type?” Excluding titans, that is.

Hange: Ahh… everyone sure likes that kind of topic. I don’t think about it much, but let’s see, someone who is fine even if I can’t pay attention to them, I guess.

Q: You respect freedom.

Hange: Mm-hmm, for me right now, I’m interested in… mainly titans, and also the structure of the world and so on… way too many things. So, even if I had someone like that, I probably can’t spend much time together with them.

Q: So someone who can accept your behavior and let you be free is ideal, isn’t it.

Hange: That’s how it turns out. I don’t think such a convenient person exists though.

Q: Do you chat with people like Deputy Leader Moblit?

Hange: Moblit says things a mother would say. Like, did you eat properly? Or, did you sleep well? And his every word is really funny.

Q: For example?

Hange: Once, during an experiment I think, he said to me, Do you really want to live!? Pretty much the only one who says such interesting things to me is Moblit!

Q: I see. Then, I’m going to change the topic a bit and introduce an unconventional question. “Please tell us about the time you recently got angry.”

Hange: Angry? Me? What a strange question.

Q: I’ve been told you’re the scariest when you get angry.

Hange: That’s not true! Erwin and Levi have way scarier faces! Well… now that I think about it…

Q: Did something come to mind?

Hange: It’s not recent, but. Long ago, I got into an argument with a Military Police officer who made fun of the Survey Corps… He said such terrible things, I couldn’t take it anymore, and grabbed the scruff of his neck and threw him on the floor… almost.

Q: That’s scary!

Hange: Haha… It’s the folly of youth. Since Erwin and the others quickly intervened, it didn’t become an issue. Other than that… when I get mad, I kick and wreck tables and chairs… but doesn’t everyone do that?

Q: Uh, I wonder about that… You give a calm impression, but there is something on fire hidden inside you.

Hange: I’m always on fire! It’s for the sake of unraveling the mysteries of this world!

Q: If mankind were finally liberated from the titans, what would they do?

Hange: Mankind would rule. But I would like to research vegetation outside the walls, or study about humanity’s past.

#long post #hange zoë #hange aot #there are some other things that I saw people mention that aren't in this #like how apparently at a young age hange tried to scrape at the walls with a shovel and got in trouble with the military police #and the wall cult #she talked about titans for two days straight and was so caught up in it she didnt even realize #I'm not sure if its from the same interview but Isayama created them because he wanted a mad scientist character #I find it really interesting that in the character interview that it says that hange if they didnt have titans to study would prefer #history and plants #we never really get to find out much about hange before Eren and the others meet them #really we just learn about the moment that drove them to begin their research into titans #not even what age they are now much less the age they were when they joined the survey corps #so them saying that the scenario with the mp that insulted the scouts happened a long time ago and that Erwin was there to stop them #is interesting to me and it makes me wonder just how many years hange has spent with the scouts #less important but the fact that hange is close enough to Levi to be considered his translator #gay shit if I ever saw it

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

drowstiel fic in progress

title: Clean Hands

fandom: Supernatural

pairings: Crowley/Castiel, Crowley/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester

blurb: In which Crowley is no one's first choice and he's totally fine with that! :) Really! :) :) :)

warnings: smut, cannibalism, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered

Trumpets sounded. Mortar cracked. The ceiling collapsed, squashing half of Crowley’s court, and holy, horrifying light flooded into every corner.

“We are going,” Castiel growled, storming up to the throne and grabbing him by the scruff, “for a drink.”

Crowley’s tail twitched, wordlessly instructing his bodyguards to stand down. “Um. Fine?”

“Now.”

“Alright, alright. Where?”

“I don’t care.”

So Crowley teleported them to a cosy little nook in Finland, highly ranked among his personal favourites and unknown to any colleagues or enemies. It had a roaring fireplace, generously padded chairs, thick faux fur rugs, and a table by a window through which one could watch snow gently blanketing the city of Rovaniemi.

They ordered Koskenkorva and cider and Salmari and beer – or rather, Crowley did, while Castiel stared broodingly into the fire – and competed to see who could get totally hammered first.

Castiel won. Castiel always won.

“Coke?” Crowley offered.

Scowling, the angel mumbled, “No. Nnn-o. Dean drinks Coke. Dean bought me a Coke once. Said I should try it. He always wants me to try things. Bacon and Star Wars and cowboy paraphernalia. Human things. Never wants to recipra… recipe… recital… never wants to try my things. Angel things. One-way street. Always.”

“Mmm. I can understand how that might feel invalidating, kitten. However, I was in fact offering you cocaine. Top-quality stuff, of course. Or weed?”

“Oh. Uhh – no. Thank you. Can I sit in your lap?”

With a put-upon sigh, Crowley settled back into his chair.

A woman seated across the room tutted disapprovingly as Castiel clambered onto him, twisting this way and that until he’d made himself comfortable with his legs dangling over the arm rest and his tousled head heavy on Crowley’s shoulder.

Looking her way with a pleasant, if carnivorous smile, Crowley said, “Your husband’s name is Verner. Your sister’s name is Aurelia. They’re currently having sex in your kitchen. Her bare, perky arse is resting on your oven mittens – the nice ones with the canary pattern. If you leave right now, you can catch them at it.”

“You are an abomination,” Castiel murmured into his neck as she bolted.

“You’re an absurdity,” he countered, sniffing his hair. Cheap shampoo. Cheap conditioner. Wood smoke, presumably from the boys’ latest hunt. Traces of blood. Traces of God.

The fire crackled. They drank some more.

“I gave Dean a feather,” Castiel said. “One of mine. It’s what we do to show loyalty. Admiration. When I served Heaven, I received feathers from various admirers every week.”

He sounded smug.

Adorable.

“It wasn’t sexual, mind,” he added, quickly.

“Of course.”

“Nor romantic. We don’t engage in such things. Nonetheless, it was meaningful. Is meaningful.”

“And Dean, I imagine, didn’t realize that.”

“Obviously not. I wasn’t expecting him to. He’s a human; why should he understand our customs? But I thought… I thought he’d at least ask. I was prepared for him to ask. I had an explanation ready to go. And then he didn’t. He took the feather, looked embarrassed, smiled, thanked me, and returned to doing Sam’s laundry.”

“Ouch.”

“I’ve never been so humiliated.”

Crowley gave him a consoling kiss, which he returned hungrily, though not cruelly. In this, Castiel was never cruel. Only demanding. Which was fine; Crowley liked being in demand.

When Castiel withdrew his questing tongue, he looked unsatisfied. (Brattish.) “Why must you always lurk so deep? Come forward. I want to see you.”

Huffing, like it wasn’t something he was asked to do and gladly did every time, Crowley let himself slide from his host’s brain into his eyeballs, turning them crimson; from his chest to his tongue, causing his breath to stink of petrol and graveyard dirt; from his veins to his extremities, prompting his fingernails and toenails to adopt a distinctly claw-like appearance. His expensive black socks would be ruined. “Better, birdy?”

Immediately, Castiel returned to kissing him. (Really, it felt as though he was trying to suck Crowley from his host’s mouth into his own.

Like he wants to eat me.

Crowley shivered happily.)

Drawing back, Castiel said, “Take us to a hotel room. I want to touch your penis.”

“I live but to serve.”

It had taken Crowley a while to work out what Castiel’s odd sexual ministrations made him feel like; a stim toy. The angel liked nothing more than to fiddle with him. To tug at his chest hair, to pluck at his nipples until they were plump and rosy, and yes, to poke and pat and play with his cock until Crowley whimpered.

“I don’t understand why he’s so reluctant to open up to me,” Castiel sighed, breath-taking on black silk sheets and settled between Crowley’s thighs, twirling grey-streaked pubic hair around his index finger.

“I like opening up to you,” said Crowley, and demonstrated.

Castiel lowered his head and peered appreciatively. “Your vessel is so much furrier than mine. Like you’ve glued a badger’s pelt between your buttocks.”

Some might have found a fuckbuddy who had only two settings – i.e. ‘the worst dirty talk conceivable’ and ‘pining for another man’ – frustrating. Crowley had long since put such petty grievances aside, because he was emotionally mature. Worldly. Smooth. Definitely not because he craved Castiel’s presence all day long and whispered his name to the stars at night.

“Hurry up and stick it in me, you twat.”

As Castiel hoisted Crowley’s legs over his shoulders, he stroked the hair there too. “Mmm. So fluffy. Honestly, with all this to keep you warm, I don’t see why you have to cover yourself in so many layers.”

“You’re one to talk! You’d wear that trench to the scorching outback if you got half the chance.”

“Temperature isn’t a factor for me. Besides, Dean likes me wearing it. It gives him a sense of continuity that he lacks in other areas of his life.”

Castiel couldn’t tell the difference between a groan of pleasure and a groan of exasperation. That was for the best.

Afterwards, Crowley arranged his host such that the majority of his weight rested on Castiel’s chest. So far, it was the only reliable way to ensure he didn’t get dressed and leave the moment they were done.

“Were you busy?” Castiel asked, panting. “When I entered Hell? You probably were. You’re always busy. You work even harder than Raphael used to.”

“Never too busy for you, pet,” he purred, punctuating his assurance with a saucy wiggle.

Castiel’s phone rang.

Castiel actually answered it (rather than his usual reaction to ringing phones – his or Crowley’s – when they were in bed, which was to narrow his eyes at them until their screens cracked and they leaked smoke), which meant it was Dean.

“I am needed,” he announced, rolling Crowley off him.

With a mocking salute, Crowley slithered into the warm spot his body had left. “Godspeed, mighty warrior. Try not to lose any more feathers.”

Fumbling with his tie, Castiel said, “I’m planning to give him one more. A second chance. If he doesn’t react appropriately, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

The tie was abandoned, flopping half-knotted against his crisp white shirt. “I’ll be back for more sex. Goodbye.”

With that, he was gone.

Under his stolen skin, Crowley curled into a smoky ball and cursed the whole world.

‘Never too busy for you,’ he’d told Castiel.

‘My door’s always open,’ he’d promised Dean.

But surely they both understood that if they were going to summon him in the middle of the working day, they would, occasionally, be interrupting something?

“Is that a kidney?” said Dean, staring at the bloody lump in Crowley’s hand.

Flustered, Crowley popped it into his mouth and swallowed it. The thought occurred, a second later, that his instinctive, perfectly normal as per demon etiquette attempt to make the situation less awkward might have been ill-advised.

“I’ll just go, shall I?” he muttered dejectedly.

Dean shook his head, sighing. “Nah. Won’t make me unsee it. But we’re not kissing.”

“Could brush my teeth? Suck on a mint?”

“No. Now get your pants off. I don’t have all day.”

Dear boy. He wasn’t always like this. Often, Crowley appeared in the circle to find him red-eyed, puffy-nosed, and at least slightly drunk, and he’d touch Crowley without saying a word all evening. Other times, he’d be wound tight, buzzing with frustration after a hunt gone wrong or a fight with Castiel or Sam. On such occasions, sex would be more like a wrestling match, Dean’s quick reflexes and pickpocket cunning pitted against Crowley’s ability to lift a car with one hand, and after they’d brutalised one another for a few hours Dean would slide off Crowley’s cock with a bone-deep groan of satisfaction and sleep like the dead. Those times tended to be Crowley’s favourites.

But this was nice, too. Brisk, rude, faux-impatient – today, Dean was in a good mood. And Dean in a good mood meant one thing and one thing only.

“Jesus fu-aaah,” Crowley exhaled, having barely slipped his 100% virgin wool trousers down his thighs before the hunter entered the circle, dropped smoothly to his knees, and latched onto the waiting erection like there was a panel of judges mere metres away and a million dollar cash prize on the line.

Dean Winchester wasn’t nearly as good at sex as he thought he was. But he always, always tried his best, and sometimes that raw enthusiasm was erotic enough all on its own.

“So,” said Dean, pulling back to study his work with that critical mechanic’s eye. “Something weird happened the other day.”

“Really? To you?”

“No, not normal Winchester-brand weird. No new apocalypses brewing, far as I’m aware. Just… y’know. Odd.”

Abruptly, he stood up, wiping his lips, and took Crowley by the arm. Sweeping the edge of his shoe through the circle, he all-but-frogmarched him across the room to the old mattress he’d set up in a corner specifically for these occasions.

(They didn’t always have sex in a grimy abandoned shed three miles from the nearest road. Sometimes they had sex in grimy abandoned cars with wheels buried in knee-deep weeds or, when Dean was feeling unusually romantic, dive bar bathrooms. Crowley didn’t care. He’d fucked Napoleon III in a haystack once.)

Absentmindedly arranging Crowley to his liking, Dean said, “Cas gave me a feather.”

Unnoticed by Dean, every microorganism within a seventy-foot radius – excepting those within his own body – died in a flash of hellfire. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And not, like, a pigeon feather or whatever. One of his. Weird, right?”

“Mm. Very.”

Dean thrust into him, business-like. “You read a lot, yeah? Probably even more than Sammy. Ever found a book that analyses – I dunno – weird angel shit? Or ancient prophecies involving angel feathers?”

Goddamn rotten bloody humiliation kink, he thought moodily, feeling his cock begin to leak. Probably done more to damage my reputation than that time Lilith caught me sneaking into David Cameron’s bedroom wearing a silk chemise and a British Lop. “Not that I can recall, no.”

Giving his arse a friendly smack, Dean said, “C’mon. You gotta know something. Or, if you don’t, you gotta have a theory. I know that nasty li’l brain of yours never stops working. Why would an angel give a human a feather?”

The deranged, beautiful monster hadn’t stopped buggering him.

Even worse, Crowley hadn’t stopped liking it.

“Alright, alright,” he groaned, fingernails surreptitiously sharpening as he dragged them over the mattress. “Stop. Lemme think for a moment. No, no, scratch that. Absolutely do not stop. Oh fuck, fuck, please don’t stop.”

“Crowley,” Dean whined, and while he’d have loved to think that he was whining in passion, he knew better.

“Look, it’s a gift, yeah? He gave you a gift. Use – fuurgh – use your brain, squirrel. Why do people usually give gifts?”

A big, calloused hand wrapped around his cock. “Birthdays. Bribes. To say thank you. To say sorry. Hey, could that be it? Has he… aw, shit, has he done something stupid behind my back? Again? And he doesn’t want to admit it but he’s feeling guilty so he’s giving me weird presents? I bet that’s it.”

Crowley wasn’t certain what language he used to say, “Jesus Christ, you’re both beyond hope,” in the seconds before he came. He was only just mentally present enough to make sure it wasn’t English.

After finishing off with a hearty grunt, Dean belly-flopped onto the mattress next to him. “Fuck yeah, man. That was great. Wonder if I can use it for something? A bona fide angel feather’s gotta have serious mojo, right?”

Facedown and breathing into the pillow, Crowley made a ‘who knows?’ gesture.

“Maybe it could be made into a weapon,” Dean murmured, gently stroking Crowley’s scalp. “There’s precedent. The First Blade was a mule’s jawbone. Or maybe I could write with it – like a quill. Heh, imagine a devil’s trap drawn with an angel’s feather. That would fuck you guys up, right?”

“Sure,” Crowley rasped, lifting his head. “Why not?”

Dean yawned. “So how’s Hell? Been about a month since we last did this, so… what’s that… about a decade down there? Had any problems? Moved the furniture around?”

“No. Hell doesn’t change much these days. Lilith was the innovator. Always installing a new lake of fire here, a new torture chamber there; slaughtering her political opponents en masse; throwing out promotions and demotions and beheadings left and right. Not my style. I prefer stability. Behind my back, they say that I’m the most boring monarch Hell’s ever had. Well, no – they say that wherever they want. When they’re behind my back, they try to stab me.”

He rolled over, wincing at a twinge in his well-used arse.

“Stability’s great and all,” Dean mumbled, sounding half-asleep. “And for real, I think it’s cool that you’ve made Hell so much less… torture-y. But y’ever think about aiming higher?”

“Eh?”

“Making Hell not suck, I mean. You know? Not just stable but actually tolerable for everyone who’s gotta live there. Now and then when I’m ganking some demon dickbag, I start thinking that maybe they wouldn’t always be causing so much trouble on Earth if they liked being in Hell more.”

Crowley laughed. Long and loud. “Where’s this coming from? Is this a Sam idea? It sounds like a Sam idea. Your bleeding-heart centrist of a brother going through another introspective phase, right? Bless.”

Scowling, Dean said, “Wow, someone’s defensive. What’s wrong? Pissed that the Boy King could run the place better than you?”

“Come off it, Dean. You don’t believe that for a second. Sam’s no leader. Much less a leader of demons. And the notion of ‘fixing’ Hell… it’s Hell. It’s not meant to be fixed. It’s not meant to be tolerable, it’s not meant to be endurable. It exists to break people. Horror is its bedrock. Sure, I can tidy up, I can replace the Gitmo vibe with the good ol’ eternal queue, but I can’t make it nice.”

“Huh. Okay, I get it,” said Dean, stretching, slyness in his eyes. “It’s not that you don’t want to – it’s that you don’t think you can. You’re not powerful enough, or smart enough, or whatever. I guess that’s fair. Surprised to hear you admit it, though.”

Like a blowfish, Crowley’s smoke puffed up to thrice its usual size, spilling from his eyes, ears, and lips as he pounced on Dean and pinned him to the mattress.

“Watch your tongue, brat,” he hissed, tail manifesting with its point aimed at Dean’s throat. “I’m not your pet pigeon. Had I the magnanimity of Saint Francis himself I’d not sit here and listen to some cunting mortal question my leadership. What in the name of God’s greasy bollocks do you know about ruling anything? You’ve never so much as managed a fucking corner shop. You’ve never even been employed.”

Dean grinned. “Damn, did I touch a nerve? Sorry, sweetcheeks.”

A canine rumble poured from Crowley’s thick throat. He felt Dean’s wrist bones creak under his grip. “Arrogant little rat.”

They glared at one another, unblinking.

“You ready to go again?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

In a violent flurry, they competed to see who could jack the other to completion first. Dean won. Dean always won.

“Same time next month?” Crowley enquired, watching him get dressed afterwards.

“Maybe. It’ll be coming up on Halloween and that’s always the worst time of year for us.”

“Mmm. Same. You’d be amazed how many false alarms we get; idiot teenagers deciding to summon a demon for fun and not actually wanting to make a deal or not letting them out of the trap afterwards. Last year, my secretary found them waiting for her with SuperSoakers full of salted holy water. Still – unless I’m busy – and, obviously, I probably will be busy – I’ll only be a phone call away if you poor lost lambs get yourselves mixed up in something you can’t handle.”

“Cool,” Dean said over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. “Catch you later.”

Crowley waited until his footsteps had faded and his scent had cleared. Then he grabbed the pillow, pressed it to his face, and screamed for forty minutes.

(to be continued)

#supernatural #crowstiel #drowley #crowley #castiel #dean winchester #drowstiel #fanfic #my fic

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

A Tale of Two Poe’s

Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: AU where Poe Dameron and Edgar Allan Poe both exist in the Star Wars universe. Reader finds a book containing the writings of Edgar Allan Poe and just can’t wait to show her Poe.

A/N: This is a purely self indulgent fic lmao 😂 this AU idea where Poe Dameron and Edgar Allan Poe exist in the same universe came into my head a while back and I just had to write it. Idk if it’s weird or not but I enjoyed writing it lmao- also obviously credit goes to Edgar Allan Poe for all his stories and poem excerpts I use. @writefightandflightclub and @sergeantkane are definitely my go to for Poe fics if you’re curious and they always inspire me to write more for Poe but- there are so many other amazing writers for Poe too. I’ll have to make a fic rec list for him soon. This also is my second fic for my 1000 follower celebration!!! I want to thank you all so much again, this is so surreal!! Thanks for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: Uhh- a sexual innuendo & talk of death in the war I think that’s it...

Main Masterlist Word count: 2.2k

The amount of bookstores that were left in the galaxy was such a small and minuscule number, most people just used their data pads to read, that is if they read anything at all. It was such a shame, in your opinion. No data pad could truly recreate the magic of a physical book.There was nothing better than opening a book, new or old, the parchment smell wafting around under your nose as you fully enveloped yourself in the words on the page.

You had stopped in at the old library after you had completed a routine information pick up for the resistance. The planet you were on was the beautiful Naboo and you had a couple hours to kill before your partner, Poe came with his x-wing to pick you up. The little vintage book store stood out in the ethereal metropolis of the big city, and you were instantly drawn to it.

When you entered the little shop it was filled wall to wall with books, you had never seen so many books in your life before. Personally, you only had three that you kept on top of your small dresser that you put the small amount of clothes in. They weren’t interesting books to say the least, mostly consisting of military procedurals from your early days in the academy, besides one novel written on a planet far away called Earth named “A tale of two cities”. The book shop made you want to take all of them back to base and read every leisure novel you could ever want to read. However, there was no real time and you didn’t have the money to take all the books home with you, so you settled on picking one that really grabbed your attention.

The book that caught your eye was a black hard cover, so thick because of how many pages it held that you could barely hold it in one hand. The spine said “The complete collection of stories and poems by Edgar Allan Poe” and just by flipping through it a little you gathered that it must have also been written on the planet Earth, just like your one other novel. You loved the other novel and you knew that you were definitely going to bring this book home, even if you didn’t enjoy it at least you could tease Poe about the shared name. But, you had a feeling you were going to enjoy it.

You opened the book to another random page written by the person who held a similar name to your man and landed on a page that had a poem by the name of Annabel Lee. Poems were not something that were often seen in the galaxy anymore, even on the data pads that everyone used. They had fallen into obscurity as a form of literature that was obsolete and pointless.

The poem instantly had you hooked just in the first few lines, it was definitely a sad poem, as you suspected the rest were as well. But, the beautiful well written rhymes seduced you like the sirens you had heard about from Ahch-To. Though, Rey had told you the Thala-sirens were not nearly as beautiful as the myths would have you believe. Realizing that you were getting tight on time you rushed to check out the book, you didn’t want to worry Poe. Once you had paid the kind older lady who ran the shop you ran quickly out to your rendezvous point where Poe was already anxiously waiting.

“Kriff- there you are, I was worried something had happened to you.” His eyes were a bit frantic looking and hair disheveled. he had undoubtedly been looking around for you in worry while running his hands through his hair and had been pacing. Poe needed to learn to relax every once and awhile, he was often an overworrier and was often overworked.

“I’m only a few minutes late, relax. I just had to pick up a little surprise for you.”

“A surprise? What is it?” He reached to grab the parcel that the book had been wrapped in by the owner of the shop. You swiftly pulled the package away from him, you wanted it to be a surprise for later, when you both could relax.

“Hands off- I’ll show you later, be patient.” His indignant sigh only caused you to roll your eyes while you both climbed into the x-wing, with you sitting on Poe’s lap. He was so dramatic sometimes. Maybe, someday you’d get to come back to the bookshop on Naboo to get some more books, with hopefully Poe in tow next time.

—-

When we got back to base you were vibrating with excitement in anticipation of showing Poe the book that had an author with the same name as him. Throughout the entire briefing with Leia she could probably tell that my mind was in a far off place, almost like you still had my head stuck in the book. When she’d finally dismissed you after you had gone through the mission debriefing I bolted to our shared quarters. Once you had gone in the fresher for a quick wash and got dressed for the night you hopped in your small bed that you shared with Poe, but not before grabbing the new book you had added to your collection.

“Come to bed, I’ve got something for you.” You said as soon as Poe got through the door. He always had to check in with the main mechanic that worked on his x-wing right after he came home on a mission, it was the only way he would ever let anyone touch black one.

“Oh? Is it that surprise you were talking about earlier?” His signature cheeky smile that he flashed you while he stripped off his flight suit let you know immediately what he assumed the surprise was.

You threw his pillow he used at him, then accosted him playfully,“It’s not what you think it is you horndog, I’ve got a book for you.”

“A book? You know I don't know how to read.” You wished that you had a third pillow to throw at him in that moment, but you didn’t want to lose your own pillow. There had been many times in your relationship where Poe had stolen your pillow to mess with you and you weren’t about to give him the upper hand.

“Shut it, I’ll read it to you, you big baby.” He was now dressed in your favorite ensemble besides his flight suit, a white tank top, boxers, and nothing else.Patting the bed right next to you, you finally got him to come over to you. He sank down next to you on the bed, making sure to immediately cuddle up into you, you then spoke again,“But, before I do I want you to see what the Author’s name was.”

Handing him over the hardcover he looked at the name on the spine with furrowed brows, then letting out a breath of laughter once he read the Author’s last name. He didn’t read often like he had joked earlier, but he definitely could read the big gold leaf cursive letters that said, Edgar Allan Poe. “Woah, that’s cool. He would’ve been cooler if he had Poe for his first name though.” In response to another cheeky comment from him I bonked him on the head with the book before I started to read, “It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.” As you lilted your voice through the poem you could feel Poe sinking down further into relaxation, which was good since he hardly ever relaxed. He was always on the move all the time because of his vast responsibilities as a commander in the resistance. To be honest, you could do with some more relaxation like this in your life, just you, Poe, and a charging BB-8. You must have paused for a second with your reading because Poe looked up at your with his deep caf colored eyes in question, prompting you to continue, “The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea. — why are you crying?”

A few small tears had welled up in the corners of Poe’s eyes with one spilling over to run down his scruff covered cheeks. He sniffled a bit, wiping away the tears before speaking, “Just reminded me of you and how much I love you. I don’t like thinking about you dying, I don’t think I could survive.”

Your heart broke a little, but also felt filled with the feeling of love. You knew there were even more dark times ahead in the war, you had both even had a conversation of what would happen if one of you passed. You even had letters that were to be read by the other if something were to happen. Even though you had discussed this before, you agreed with Poe, you never wanted to think about what the galaxy would be like without him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth him a bit. You felt a little bad that you had not realized how much it might affect Poe, so you decided to shift the subject to something that hit less close to home, “I’ll read something a bit different. They’re all dark, but I’ll pick one that you’ll enjoy more.”

You then began to read the Cask of Amontillado, which was a story that you both could relate to personally less which meant you could both fully enjoy the story.

“You were right, I liked that one.” He took the book from your hands to inspect the black book further, “How old is this book?”

“I don’t know, probably pretty old. I’ll have to take extra good care of it.”

“Yeah, just as long as that doesn’t become your favorite Poe in your life.” Poe’s signature cheeky grin was back on his face, then tilting his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours.

“Ok, Edgar.” A wide cheeky smile was now on your face, proud of your ‘clever’ new nickname for Poe.

“No no no that nickname better not stick.”

“But- your hair looks so similar to his! Look at all those dark messy curls! I’m keeping the nickname.” You flipped to one of the earlier pages of the book that had a short biography at the front about the author with a print of a portrait of the author. His expression soured once he looked at the portrait, realizing that his curls did in fact, look like the Author’s. He let out a fake disgruntled sigh that did a horrible job of hiding his underlying happiness and flopped down back on the bed to cuddle up with you for the night.

The entire resistance was confused why you had started calling Poe, Edgar whenever you wanted to tease him. But, you guys kept the secret of the tale of two Poe’s, the only people who knew the origins of the nickname were you and your Poe. The nickname definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

—-

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Poe Dameron/SW:

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

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Part two of my AU! You should start with But What If, Instead, or you may be a little confused. Or just dive in, that's cool too. Be a sexy rebel. It's what BJ would want.

He’s sixteen when green starts to grow on his face. He’s been dealing with the hair for years, now, and it’s mostly stable. Sure, he gets overwhelmed, and sure, it can still change quickly, but it’s not like when he was twelve and threw fits all the time that resulted in fire engine red. He wouldn’t say he’s the best at handling anger, for sure, for sure, for sure. That award will probably always go to his mother, Emily. But he’s gotten better at treating everything like a joke, which totally helps. Can’t get mad at what you don’t take seriously, right? It’s a philosophy that seems to frustrate his dad, who, in Betelgeuse’s opinion, takes everything way too seriously. Chuckster is lucky he’s got Emily to balance him out, or that case of stick in ass might have become terminal. So, yeah, alright, the green. He’s been growing facial hair lately, a thin pathetic little pencil mustache that nine year old Lydia calls his “creepo-stache,” and he’d be the first to admit, it’s pretty John Waters-esque, but it’s what he’s got, for now. That hair, of course, grows in green, and mixed with the corpse purple untertones he still hasn’t quite learned to glamour away convincingly, the effect is that he perpetually looks like he’s ready to put on a zombie remake of a 70’s porno. Metaphors sure are fun. At least the upper lip is starting to fill out, and the chin scruff has been on the rise, too, though he’s a far cry away from Charles’ majestic beard. He’s staring in his bathroom mirror after a shower, admiring his chubby, totally sexy self, when he notices a splotch of green on the left side of his nose. He smooshes his nose down a little with one hand, leans in closer, and squints. Must be somethin’ he ate? On his nose? For some reason? But then he notices there’s the same slight green color at his temples, too. He settles on scrubbing his face until his skin hurts a little, and when he’s done, he’s so flushed he can’t see the color, and assumes the matter is settled. And then a few days later, it’s darker. He’s sitting at dinner with the whole family, chewing with his mouth open to annoy Lydia, who gives him a swift kick to the shin under the table. “Now, if you ever hit me, and I find out about it,” he starts to tease, until he feels his mom flick his ear, and he turns to her. “You got some schmutz on your face, Bug. Come here.” Emily blots her napkin to her tongue, and then wipes at his nose, much to his chagrin. “Ew, seriously? Maaaaa,” he whines, but everyone at that table knows he’s soaking up the attention like a sponge. “I for sure feel so much cleaner with your spit smeared around my face, thank you so much, Emily Deetz.” Emily shooshes him and continues rubbing, but her napkin comes away clean. “Huh,” she glances down at it, and then back to the spot on the side of his nose, and squints. Lydia and Charles are leaning in too, now, and his sister grins. “There’s some on his forehead, mama, get him there,” and she’s successful in weaponizing their mother against him, because he hardly has time for a “Damn you-” before Emily is rubbing at the green stains on his temples, near his hairline. “What the heck is this, ink?” “I dunnoooo!” he winges, wiggling just enough to let her know he’s unhappy but not enough to flail and hurt her. When she finally relents and lets him go, a third hand sprouts from his back to pull the “hood” part of his black and white striped hoodie over his head, and he tightens the draw strings. “No more smearing spit on BJ, now, that part of dinner is done,” he says defensively, and Emily has the sense to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Bug,” she pats his head, and he hisses in response, but no one, not even him, takes that seriously anymore. It’s a few more days until there’s a break in the case. He’s standing upside down on his bedroom ceiling, concentrating on a certain riff on his ukelele, and Lydia is flopped on his bed, passively watching Coraline on the beat up vintage TV he and Charles spent last summer fixing up. “I can’t get this to sound right,” he complains to her, and in response,

she turns the movie up louder. “Oh, haha, my sister, the fuckin’ comedianne, she’ll be here all week, everybody,” and he flops on the mattress next to her, which makes her bounce a bit before they both settle. He’s laying on his back, ukulele on his chest, mumbling and strumming, and she’s on her stomach, watching that kinda horny scene where the nude old lady with the huge honkers unzips her fuckin’ skin, when she glances over at him. “Your face spots are fuzzy, now,” she comments. “It’s called a beard, short stack. Dad’s had one since you were five, you’d think-” “Shut up, dummy, I meant the schmaltz.” “You mean the schmutz. Different words mean different things.” “Whatever. Your nose is growing hair, like grandpa. It’s barforiffic.” He frowns, and sets the ukulele down besides his bed, and conjures himself a little hand mirror from his pocket dimension. Lydia’s breath hitches, because no matter how many years it’s been, she still loves that trick, the way it’s like he’s pulling something out of nothing. He stares at the splotches in his hand mirror, beholding his face in mock horror like that episode of the Twilight Zone, the one with the pig faced people. All other details aside, she’s right, the splotches are growing hair, sort of. It doesn’t feel exactly like hair, when he reaches an experimental finger to poke at it, it’s sort of.. He can’t describe it. Grassy? Not really hair, more like a short, fuzzy… “It’s moss,” he realizes, positioning the mirror to check his forehead, where the vegetation is growing softly there, too. “Gross. How often do you shower, you neanderthal?” Lydia scrunches up her nose at him. “Careful, or you’re getting a face full of demon pits when you’re tryna sleep tonight,” he bites back at her. “I shower a normal amount. Maybe..” sharp teeth worry his bottom lip as he thinks. “I’m showering too much?” “That can’t possibly be your take away from this.” “Well I don’t know, Ly-dee-uhh,” he drags out her name. “It’s not like I’ve got a handy dandy guide to being an undead demon thing tucked away that explains all the rules that come with bein’ me, okay? I’m just thinkin’, I could count as dead cause, ya know. No heartbeat. Dead people probably.. I mean plants might grow on em, right? Like if one was left murdered and unburied in th’ world, like in a damp forest, and surrounded by nature, maybe somethin’ would grow on their putrid, rotting corpse flesh?” Lydia sits up, and leans over him, pushing the hand mirror out of the way. “I’m picking this off of you so I don’t have to hear about it anymore,” she says, simply, and then uses her surprisingly strong kid strength to dig into the runny splotch on his left temple. She runs a nail up his skin, scraping at him, and he purrs in response, tongue flicking out of his mouth, snake like. “Big scary demon dead guy, and all it takes to tame him is a little bit of attention,” she teases, and he gives another half hearted hiss. “You’re like a cat, BJ.” When she’s finished, she cleans under her nails and looks pleased. “I think I got it,” she nods, and he checks in his hand mirror. They both watch in silence as the moss seems to instantly grow back. “Moooooom!” he whines, sitting up and tossing the hand mirror over his shoulder, where it disappears into nothing without touching the ground, tucked back safe in his pocket dimension. Emily pokes her head in a moment later. “Yeah, what’s up, Beej?” She’s got her long blonde hair all done in a neat bun, and there’s the slight tone of exasperation to her voice. “You kids aren’t fighting, right?” she asks, stepping into the room. “I am literally just sitting here,” Lydia motions to the tv, still displaying the stop motion exploits of her current idol and role model. “The green crap on my face, it’s moss!” Betelgeuse whines to her, outright ignoring her question to begin with. “I’m growing moss on my face, and Lyds scraped it off but it instantly grew back!” “It was kinda cool,” Lydia admits, not giving her older brother the satisfaction of looking at him when she says it. Emily,

meanwhile, puts a finger on her chin, and scrunches up her nose in thought. “Maybe.. Some weed killer might get rid of it?” she suggests, clearly unsure. “So you want me to drink POISON,” Betelgeuse instantly flops back on the bed, left hand thrown over his forehead, all dramatic. “Lured me into the family just to try and murder me years later, huh? You fooled me! With love!” He opens his eyes in time to see both Emily and Lydia rolling theirs. “You can’t just magic it away?” Lydia pokes the moss on his nose. “The way you did your last report card?” “Judas,” he hisses, dropping the glamour enough to glare at her with his snake slit amber eyes. “You did what?” ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` He’s back at school on Monday with a bandaid fix, which is literally a couple band aids across the spots, one plastered on his nose, the other one a large patch bandage on the spot on his temples where the green was growing in the most clearly. The bandages noticeably don’t blend in with his skin tone, despite touting themselves as flesh colored, because he’s got skin like a guy who never left his basement, and also is freshly fuckin’ dead. For extra cover, he’s wearing his “Guide” hat, a ratty gray policeman’s cap with a metal plate spelling out the word. Charles had bought for him from a Goodwill his first year up top. It does enough to hide the streaks of green, as long as he pulls it down a bit, and he’s not exactly known at school for being a style icon, so nobody thinks twice to see him wearing it, as he slips from the front seat of Charles’ car that morning. “Have a good day, son. Call me if.. If you need me,” Charles reminds him, and Lydia pipes up from the backseat. “Later, Bug beverage. Good luck.” She’s still feeling a bit guilty about snitching, apparently, because she blows him a kiss, which is super uncool and she clearly wants to take it back the second she’s done it, but he grins and pretends to catch it. “Later, family,” he closes the car door, and turns to face his day. School, he had learned a few years ago, is a uniquely breather torture experience thought up by the old to make the young loose out on their precious youths, there by getting back at them for being young and fun. That was his working theory all through his miserable first year of middle school, and high school is not disproving that theory in the least. He’s vaguely aware of the cliques that the breathers his age form, and there’s probably gossip about him, but for the most part, he’s just too weird for most of the humans his age to engage with him. He’s kind of got an aura, an indefinable something he can’t switch off, and it’s getting stronger the older he gets. Breathers are naturally more wary of him than they used to be. So yeah, he is the weird chubby kid in the striped hoodie and matching tripp pants, and under normal circumstances, he has to believe that would lead to bullying, but whatever ancient animal instinct these kids have, it tells them to steer clear of him. So school is, to put it frankly, lonely. It’s probably better to be mostly ignored than hated, he supposes, but that doesn’t make eating lunch in the quad by himself every day any less pathetic. He’s zoning out in first period, relaxing in his slacker seat in the back of the class, when things actually get interesting. Their teacher is a sort of slim, nervous looking man who teaches history, but right at that moment he’s announcing a new student. And it’s someone Betelgeuse recognizes, though he can’t place from where. The new boy, Kevin something Loh, apparently, is directed to take the only empty seat in the class, the seat right in front of Betelgeuse. As Kevin is walking down the aisle towards him, Betelgeuse is wracking his brain, trying to recall. Kevin is Asian, with high cheekbones and short black hair, carefully and deliberately styled. He’s also staring right at Betelgeuse. “You?” he whispers, sounding horrified. “Me,” Betelgeuse responds, propping his history book up on his desk and slumping down behind it, deciding he’s

fully content with napping this period away, and leaving this mystery unsolved. But Kevin is apparently worse at reading social cues than BJ is, because he’s still standing there, looming over Betelgeuse. “What are you doing here?” he hisses, sounding angry now, and Betelgeuse peaks up at him, amber eyes shining a faint amount from under the brim of his cap. “I am literally just sitting here.” “Mr. Loh, is there a problem?” their teacher askes, and the new kid whips around. “I refuse to sit next to this thing.” He points at Betelgeuse, who straightens up, a scowl playing across his features. “You wanna rephrase that?” the demon askes, gravely voice particularly dangerous sounding, because he’s NOT a thing. The humans all take note of the changing vibes in the room, growing uncomfortable. “Does someone want to switch with Mr. Loh, and sit in front of Mr. Deetz instead?” their teacher tries. The answer is silence. No one is giving up their seat next to friends to sit in front of the loner who smells like freshly dug grave dirt. “Well, then. Sit down, Mr. Loh. Mr. Deetz does not bite.” “But-” “Yeah, sit down, Kev, you’re interrupting my mid morning nap,” Betelgeuse scowls, fingers on his right hand twitching, and Kevin falls into his seat with a less than macho sounding yelp. From the glare he gets in return, he’s got a feeling Kevin’s not gonna be his new bff. When lunch rolls around, Betelgeuse finds his usual place in the quad, under the shade of a tree, and he’s about to summon forth his lunch from his little pocket dimension, when he hears a breather approaching from behind him. He’s sitting on the side that faces away from the main area, and all the happy friend groups enjoying their lunches and gossip, and towards the track field, cause if he’s gonna be sitting alone, at least he’s gonna get to watch boys and girls his age work up a sexy sweat. From a quick smell test he can tell the person approaching is Kevin. The guy reeks of some overly applied body spray mess, and it nearly puts him off his lunch. “What,” he groans, annoyed, not even looking back to address the other boy, and Kevin seems to freeze. He’d apparently thought he was being pretty sneaky. “Why are you following me?” is the first thing out of the new kid’s mouth, and that does actually cause Betelgeuse to turn and look at him, staring like Kev’s just proposed the earth is only round because Atlus keeps reinflating it to use like a blow up doll. “I,” Betelgeuse gestures very dramatically to himself. “Don’t knoooow,” he continues slowly. “Who you are.” Kevin, for some reason, seems to wilt a bit. “You really don’t remember me?” “I really don’t. Should I? You do somethin’ interestin’? Besides, single handedly keep Axe body spray in business?” “It’s not Axe!” Kevin stomps over to stand in front of him, offended. “Then axe it, my man, cause that scent is not workin’ for you,” Betelgeuse replies easily, leaning back against the tree to resume his track practice spying. “You juggled your head!” Kevin accuses him. Betelgeuse cocks an eyebrow, and his eyes flit back to Kevin. So he’s someone who had seen him use his powers, at some point? Yeesh. “You brought a field of pumpkins to life and nearly murdered me!” Ohhhh. “Yeah, well, you pushed me down,” Betelgeuse says, suddenly remembering. “So I guess we both suffered that day, didn’t we, Kev?” “So you admit it!” Kevin says tenselely, before sitting in the grass across from him. Betelgeuse watches him quietly. The breather seems confused. “Why are you here?” he asks, and Betelgeuse nods over at the bouncing, glistening track team. “The view.” Kevin glances in that direction and rolls his eyes. “Jackass, I meant at school,” he dead pans. Betelgeuse grins. “Well, th’ way my dad explained it, I have to be in government mandated kid jail, or else he goes to adult jail.” “So you’re a monster who has to go to school?” “Demon, but. Yeah.” Kevin’s eyes widen, and he whispers the word. “Demon.” There’s a beat as he ponders over that. “Those people, who were with you at the store.. Are they demons

too?” “What? Th’ Deetzs? Nah. They’re human as they come.” “And you live with them?” “Yup,” he pops the “p,” quickly growing annoyed with this line of questioning. “And they-” “Listen, man,” Betelgeuse apparates his lunch from nothing, which causes Kevin to flinch, before realizing it's just food. “Can we skip all this? It’s a life changing revelation for you, I’m sure, but forget bored stiff, this is giving me rigor mortis. Yes, I’m a demon. I go to school here cause I’m th’ Deetz’s son, and no, there’s nothing wrong with them.” He grimaces. “Just me. I’m not following you around to torment you, you’re not that special. And yes,” he holds up the sandwich from his lunch. “This is a turkey club on a croissant. My human dad packed it for me, because he loves me.” There’s a small moment of silence. Kevin opens his mouth, and Betelgeuse, own mouth now full of food, groans. “Why do you have bandages all over your face?” “Because I murdered a pedophile four years ago and his vengeful, freak ass ghost won’t let it go.” “Really?” “No. That’s not even how ghosts work. God, breathers are so gullible.” “You’re such a dick,” Kevin replies, but there’s a faint hint of a smile, there. Betelgeuse feels it tugging at his own lips, too. “I’m growing moss on my face,” he admits after a moment. “Wasn’t sure how else to keep it hidden, so. Bandages. Not that I really care what people think-” “I can tell from the tripp pants, yeah,” Kev interjects, and Betelgeuse flips him off before continuing. “I’m not trying to get a bunch of attention for being weird.” “Didn’t seem to bother you before,” Kevin comments, picking lazily at the grass around him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “I was twelve. I’ve gotten a bit smarter, even if I was dragged kickin’ an’ screamin’ th’ whole damn way,” and this time, Kevin actually does smile. He mimics the other boy. He offers Kevin half his sandwich, and for the first time ever, he doesn’t eat lunch alone. They wait after school together, watching as their peers are picked up or loaded onto buses. “I used to have nightmares about you,” Kevin tells him, and Betelgeuse smiles flirtatiously. “So you’ve been dreamin’ of me. That’s hot.” He receives a punch in the arm for that. When his mom pulls up, with Lydia in tow in the backseat, he throws open the front passenger side door of the car. “Hey, ma, hey Lyds,” but Emily is looking past him. “BJ, is that a friend of yours?” She sounds thrilled. He turns and looks at Kevin, then back to her, and shrugs, but he’s smiling. “I dunno. He’s new, so we hung out at lunch, an’ talked. Maybe. I dunno.” “You should invite him over!” Emily grins, eyes shining. “Now?” “Now! We’re having take out for dinner, we could order more for him, easy! And he’s new, he probably doesn’t have any plans, and-” “Alright, alright, hold on,” he gripes, then waives Kevin over. The breather approaches the car, cautious. “Hey, so my mom, she says you can come over for dinner, if you want,” and God/Satan, he’s never felt more like an awkward, pimply faced teen than he does at that exact moment. If he sounds like a total loser, at least Kevin doesn’t seem to mind, cause he perks up. “Let me call my dad!” he whips out his cell phone so fast, Betelgeuse feels flattered. He actually wants to come over. He wants to spend some time together. Emily’s smile widens until she looks like a slasher on happy pills, and he climbs into the car front seat and nudges her. “Play it cool, ma,” he all but begs, and she looks to him. “I’m super cool, BJ. I’m a cool mom. Right, Lyds?” Lydia gives her best noncommittal shrug, the one Betelgeuse taught her, actually. “He said yes!” Kevin comes jogging back over to the car a minute later. “If that’s really okay, Mrs. Deetz?” “For sure! The more, the merrier!” They moved out of the apartment a little over a year ago. The new place had been a nightmare when they’d moved in, a Tudor style house with a lot of character, a lot of leftover trash, and a lot of bugs. He’d set about fixing that instantly, hunting down the tasty snacks, and Emily had stood in the middle of

the mess, chewing her bottom lip, and thinking. “I know, I know, it’s rough,” Charles had stood there, suddenly looking older than his age in a way Betelgeuse did not like. “But it’s a beautiful old house, with good bones, and room to grow, and.. It’s going to be a lot of work.” Lydia, precocious and eight, shuffled between her parents, and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a dump,” she declared, and both the adults looked down at her. “It’s not a dump,” Emily said. “It’s The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.” “Em!” Seemingly ignoring her husband, she turned and went back to the car, and didn’t return until she had her record player and a sample of her collection of vinyl with her. “BJ! Come give this a shock, please? The power’s not on yet.” Betelgeuse apparated at her side, a new trick he’d been practicing, and Emily, ever Emily, didn’t even flinch. She just patted his head, as he grabbed the cord and gave it a shock of green static. She placed a record in the player, and adjusted the needle. The familiar sounds of Calypso began to fill the house. “Let’s clean up,” Emily smiled, and, singing along and dancing and laughing, the family had begun their first of many clean ups. It’s a nice memory, one he looks back on often. They’re pulling up to the house, Kevin in tow, and despite the unease he feels at having a new person in his space, at least their house, full of love, is a comforting energy to be wrapped in.

They lead Kevin in, and he follows Betelgeuse up to his bedroom.

“So, we got your common bedroom items,” he gestures grandly as they enter his space. “Dead rat, TV, dresser, mirror for inter dimensional travel, severed head for juggling,” he acknowledges that moment in their shared history. “Old trunk full of demon secrets,” he gives the antique steamer trunk by the foot of his bed a kick. It pops open to reveal very normal looking magazines. “All that good stuff.” The wall paper he chose for his room is a black and white pinstripe that dad had called “busy,” and mom had called “him,” and Kevin blinks a bit in surprise. “You, uh, really are dedicated to the stripes, huh? I prefer a simple black myself.. Black is always a statement.” Betelgeuse snorts. “It’s my pattern,” he says, and Kevin sort of nods, clearly not getting it. He tries again. “It’s, you know, important?” Kevin glances at him, and nods again, but seemingly more hesitant. “It’s a demon thing,” Betelgeuse says finally, tired of even his own clunky attempts at subtly. “My animal is a snake,” he explains. “And my colors are black and white.” Kevin looks mystified. “So, what does that… mean?”

“Means it’s my aspect. It’s important.. Demon stuff.”

The teens look at each other. Kevin squints. “You don’t know what it means.” “I got no fuckin’ clue,” Betelgeuse admits, flopping on his back in the air and hanging there, reclining on nothing. “It’s somethin’, somethin’, dominion over th’ beasts that crawl on their bellies, foul an’ tainted, I think was th’ phrase. But I don’t usually get many chances to be around snakes, so it’s not a talent I get to practice much.” Kevin looks insanely jealous of the way he’s floating there, weightless, which was exactly the point Betelgeuse had in mind when he struck the floating pose to begin with. “Point bein’, I’m drawn to black an’ white.”

“Same way you’re drawn to sweaty track stars?” Kevin smirks, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Fuckin’ exactly,” Betelgeuse grins at him, a smile Kevin matches. He might be out of his mind, but he feels something here. Kevin’s a good looking guy, and Betelgeuse isn’t exactly “picky.” He’s known for a long time his exact type is “someone who will give Betelgeuse attention and affection,” without worrying what exactly that means in the long run. “Gross,” rings a female voice, and the prolonged eye contact between the teens is broken by his nine year old sister, leaning against the door frame. She takes in the scene before her, him floating there, and Kevin.. Kevin seemingly looking a little flustered on the bed. He’s not sure if she gets what that’s about, hell, he hardly does, though he likes it. But she’s a bit young to pick up on romantic vibes, he thinks. Hopefully. “You’re not even trying to hide the whole, being a demon thing, are you?” she scowls. “Whatever, he already knew. He recognized me from the pumpkin patch. You probably don’t remember, you were five, but-” “I remember.” She squints, and then looks at Kevin, who gives a little waive. “What exactly are your intentions with my demon brother?” she asks, crossing her arms. Kevin actually blushes, a reaction Betelgeuse can both see and smell. Smells like blood and hormones, and it’s cute… he’s cute. “He’s just… weird. I’m, you know.. I just wanna know more. About him, and demons, and this otherworldly, supernatural business.” Ah. A little disappointing. He tries not to look let down, but he knows Lydia catches the look on his face. God/Satan, she’s a clever kid. “BJ isn’t your personal encyclopedia of paranormal bullshit. Besides, he hardly knows anything.” “Fuckin’ rude.” “Well!” she throws her hands up, a gesture he recognizes that she’s picked up from Emily. “I’m just saying, you don’t know enough to be that interesting.” He drops to his feet and puts a hand out, and she glares at him as an invisible force gently pushes her towards the door. “That’s enough, I think you’ve fulfilled your annoying little sibling requirements for today,” he grates at her, and she’s about out the door when Charles’ voice booms from downstairs. “Dinner!” Dinner is from Charles’ favorite Thai place, and the amount of food ordered seems to throw Kevin off guard. There’s a tall stack of delicious smelling styrofoam boxes, all of which are systematically set on the kitchen counter in a line, and the Deetz family goes through with plates, and helps themselves. It becomes clear pretty quickly that the amount ordered has more to do with who is eating, and not what they’re eating. Betelgeuse simply picks up two or three boxes instead of a plate, and settles at the table. His excuse for being a glutton has always been that his powers require a lot of energy for upkeep, but he’s not actually sure if that’s true. Also, it’s an excuse he’s never actually had to use, at least not in this house, because despite being somewhat akin to a garbage disposal in terms of food, his parents never give him any crap for eating. When he’d shown up, a skinny feral bitey little fuck, they’d been very encouraging of him stuffing his face. Now he’s older, obviously, and maybe he’s a bit chubby for his age, but it seems the entire family figures it’s better than looking starved, like he did before. He doesn’t think he’ll die if he doesn’t eat, but it feels good to have a full stomach, and he likes the way food tastes, so yes, he eats a lot. The way he sees it, it just means more B-Man to go around. Kevin, meanwhile, takes a polite amount and sits down next to him. “So, Kevin! Today was your first day?” Emily smiles brightly to the teen, who nods. “Yeah, I’m living with my dad now, so... new school,” he explains. Betelgeuse has the urge to pick up one of his boxes of food and take a cartoonish bite, like it’s a sandwich, but he doesn’t think that gag will play, right at this moment. “BJ has never brought a friend over before,” Charles says, unhelpfully. “Have too!” Betelgeuse protests, because he’s not trying to look like a total freak ass loser in front of the one person who seems

interested in talking to him.

Charles furrows his brow. “Who..? Oh, well…” he pauses. “I don’t know if.. If Sam counts…” “Sam was cool,” Lydia interjects, staring at Kevin, the unfinished half of her sentence being, “unlike you.” He’s got no clue why she’s gunning for Kev the way she is, but it’s kinda funny to watch a nine year old intimidate a teen. “He came over, didn’t he? Sure, it was uninvited, through a mirror, but I’m counting it anyways.” “BJ,” Charles starts, but Betelgeuse just shrugs. “It’s fine, dad. He knows. He was at the pumpkin patch.” It takes Charles and Emily a moment, but they both suddenly look nervous. “BJ is a good kid!” Emily blurts immediately, sounding defensive and looking at Kev, who sort of gives a nod. “It’s cool, I… threw tantrums when I was little, too. I mean, mine weren’t like. Cool vegetation apocalypses, but, you know.” He gives an easy shrug, before looking at Betelgeuse. “Who is Sam? Another demon?” “A better demon,” Lydia mutters, and at this point, he’s a second away from teleporting her into the neighbor’s pool. “He’s like Santa for Halloween, if Santa enforced Christmas time cheer with extreme violence.” “He’s Halloween Krampus,” Emily supplies helpfully, and he nods. “He’s the spirit of Halloween, and he’s cool. He’s only around one night, and he’s usually busy workin’, but when he gets a moment he pops in and we hang out. You’d probably-” like him isn’t exactly the right words. Humans don’t tend to feel easy in Sam’s presence. “- get along?” he finishes, but that also doesn’t seem likely. Sam isn’t outright cruel… usually. But his aura is clearly threatening, and he doesn’t play nice. The only reason Betelgeuse isn’t worried about his humans is because Sam has very clear, very structured rules. Rules that Emily had already been following, regardless of demonic threat. Also, last Halloween, Lydia had gone as Sam, orange jumpsuit, burlap sack and button eyes and everything, and Sam, ever a being of few words, had said, Flattered. He figures that probably earned the Deetz family at least one get out of murder free card. “This is all so cool,” Kevin twirls his fork around his pad phak. “It’s like, something from a movie. I can’t believe demons are.. Real. And I know about them.” There is, for a moment, a shine in his eyes that makes Betelgeuse uncomfortable, but it passes so quickly, he starts to assume he imagined it. He gives in, picks up a styrofoam box full of spicy chicken, and takes a bite out of the whole thing. His dad groans. After they’re done eating, they play video games, and whatever that moment was at dinner, he forces himself to forget it. Kevin is cute, and Kevin wants to talk to him, and that’s about as much as he cares to think about, right now. When Mr. Loh comes to pick him up, Kevin gives Betelgeuse’s hand a squeeze. It’s just the two of them, on the front porch, under the stars only he can see, because light pollution makes them invisible to the human eyes. Still, the setting feels intimate, and that hand holding cements it, at least at that moment. He’s not imagining it. “See you tomorrow?” Kevin smiles, and Betelgeuse knows his face flushes a little more purple at that. “Uh, yeah, for sure,” he says, and Kevin steps off the front porch and hurries to his dad’s car, their moment broken, but he stands there a while anyways, even after the car disappears down the street. He takes his own hand in hand, and gives it a squeeze, trying to imitate what Kevin had done flawlessly. He wanders inside after a while, but just stands with his back to the front door, replaying that simple moment over and over, until Charles, passing him on his way up to bed, pauses. “BJ? Your hair is… pink.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #lydia deetz #emily deetz #otho beetlejuice

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

Text

Stitches

Benny Miller x reader/you

Continuing the Shawn Mendes Song Fic. Santiago is next and then I’ll be moving onto another band/theme. Uh. Some fights. Nothing really too extreme here. Enjoy.

Everything Tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

I thought that I've been hurt before

But no one's ever left me quite this sore

Benny was watching an MMA tournament, checking out his competition for his tournament next month. Will was there with him, watching the matches with his keen eyes. Benny was… easily distracted to say the least. He smiled flirtatiously at many women who passed by him. At one point he noticed a group of women, standing off to the side. Most of them had a guy with them, all except one.

As he looked at her, he could tell she looked extremely bored. She had her arms crossed; her foot was tapping. She kept checking her phone for either the time or something to give her an escape.

After a moment, a guy joined her, handing her a clear solo cup of beer. She smiled tensely at him and would duck under his arm anytime he tried to wrap it around her. She eventually, handed the drink to one of her girlfriends, and said something to excuse herself. He watched as she walked over to the concession stand. That was when he decided to make his move.

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

You were idly standing by the concession stand, pretending to look over the menu. You were not thrilled to be there, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

While you were standing there, a guy stood nearby you. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. You noticed he was pretty handsome. Brown hair, blue eyes, a light amount of scruff, and well built.

“Having a hard time deciding what to get?” You hear him ask, as he stepped a little closer, so you could hear him.

“Oh yeah. So hard to chose between popcorn, a corndog, or a hotdog. What would you recommend?” You asked, chuckling at the situation.

“Uhh. Nothing from here. I would recommend only eating this food, if you had a lot of liquor and no taste buds left,” He joked scratching the back of his head.

You crinkled your nose in slight disgust.

“I’m Benny. What’s your name?” He asked.

You tell him yours and he smiled brightly.

“So. Don’t take this the wrong way, but this doesn’t seem to be your scene? Or rather… you don’t look thrilled to be here,” He gently probed, wanting to know.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Oh, you lured me in I couldn't sense the pain

“Oh. Um. Blind date. I hate it. Him. He’s rather touchy, and he’s just boring. My friends thought this was a good idea. After my ex broke up with me because I “wasn’t there enough.” I’m a med student. Sorry my life doesn’t revolve around you,” She informed him with an eyeroll.

“Oh? Med student? Nice. Good to know,” He teased.

“How is that good to know?” She questioned, staring at him confused.

“I’m a fighter. Uh. I have a tournament next month. So, I’m here with my brother to check out my competition. It’s nice to know a pretty doctor is all,” Benny tells her, feeling slightly awkward, thinking he overstepped.

She shook her head with a small smile, thinking he was cute.

“A fighter eh? You any good?” She asked him, biting her lip.

“Come to my tournament next month. You’ll see. Maybe I can…take you to dinner after?” Benny asked charmingly.

She smiled, looking down. She looked over at her group of friends who were apparently waiting on her. She pulled out her phone, quickly unlocking it.

“Put your number in, and text me the details,” She requested.

Benny gave her a 1000-watt smile, as he input his number, sending a text to himself, and saving himself as a contact.

He felt his phone buzz as he received the messaged.

“I’ll see ya then,” Benny stated, pressing a kiss to her cheek quickly.

He ran back over to his brother and looked back to see her still standing where he left her. Her hand was gently touching where he kissed her, and he could see her smiling softly.

Will simply rolled his eyes and shook his head at him.

Your bitter heart cold to the touch

Now I'm gonna reap what I sow

It had been a week since that day, and you were nervous as you stared at your phone. You wanted to talk to Benny again. You didn’t want to wait a month. You opened up the chat he created, laughing at the name he gave himself.

“Hot Stuff”

You sent him a message simply saying ‘hi.’

Seconds later you got a response. ‘hey! How are you?’

‘I’m well. I... hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time? I just wanted to talk to you again’

‘Oh really? How did the rest of your date go with Mr. Boring?’

‘It didn’t. I ran when he went to the bathroom. He apparently thinks it was a magical date. I told him I wasn’t ready for anything more.’

‘lol. Poor guy. Shame he couldn’t see that you hated it. His loss is my gain tho’

‘Oh. Is that so? What did you gain, besides someone to tend to your wounds?’

‘A beautiful girlfriend? If you’re interested?’

She paused at that. She could feel her face warm up a bit. She bit her lip as she typed out her response.

‘Wouldn’t that imply you have to take me on a few dates before receiving that title?’

‘What are you doing for the next 3 weekends up till my fight?’

She laughed at that before typing out a response.

I'm left seeing red on my own

Got a feeling that I'm going under

The month passed by quickly. Benny had taken you out every weekend: movies, lunch/dinner, walks around the park. He made every date feel relaxed and easy. You didn’t feel like you had to be on guard or put on a façade. He made you forget about all about your dumb ex and was very supportive of your learning.

One date, he actually helped you create flashcards and study for an upcoming exam. Something Brian would never do. He always felt that the attention should be 100% on him, and to hell with your education.

Benny even made copies of your study notes, so he could quiz you randomly throughout the day. Something you appreciated greatly, because it kept the info fresh in her mind. When the exam day came around, Benny sent you flowers and candy wishing you luck. About 2 hours later, you were turning the test in online, which automatically gave you a score. 100%.

You immediately called Benny, excited, “Benny! I aced it! Thank you so much for your help!”

“Congrats baby! I knew you would ace it! Shall we… celebrate? I’ll bring over food, and we can watch movies?” He offered somewhat shyly.

“Yes! I would love that! But wait… Weren’t you supposed to hang out with your brother and friends tonight?” You asked thinking back to a previous conversation.

“I could cancel with them, it’s not a big deal,” Benny said nonchalantly.

“No. Don’t do that. They are your family. How about we celebrate after your fight on Saturday?” You countered, not wanting him to change his plans just for you.

“Alright. If you’re sure?” He asked wanting to confirm.

“I’m sure. Bye babe,” You tell him as you hang up.

“Bye!” He chirped.

But I know that I'll make it out alive

If I quit calling you my lover

Saturday rolled around fast, and after a rush of getting your badge that gave you VIP access, you were searching for someone familiar. As you were searching, a blonde man appeared before you.

“Hey Doc. I’m Will. C’mon. Benny wants to see you, seems to think you’ll bring him good luck,” Will’s voice was slightly deeper and raspier than Benny’s.

As you looked at him, you could see the resemblance between the two of them. You followed him toward the back, where the locker rooms were located. He led you down a hallway and to a room about midway. Benny was in the middle of bandaging his hands, rather poorly.

“Stop. I have no idea what you’re doing but stop,” You command moving forward.

You grabbed the bandages, undoing his work.

“No wonder you keep busting your hands. Who taught you how to wrap?” You asked him as you wrapped them properly.

You heard several chuckles.

“We keep telling him, but he refuses to listen,” Came a deep voice to your right.

You glance at the man, one of two Latino men who stood nearby. The one who talked was the kind who looked painfully handsome and knew it. The other, who wore a cap, looked sweet and was shaking his head at the scene he was seeing.

“You’re legit the only person he’s ever let touch those wraps. Us? The men he spent years in the army with? Oh no. We know nothing,” He teased, lightly shoving Benny.

“You should listen to them more often. They were correct,” You lightly admonished as you finished wrapping both of his hands.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side!” Benny exclaimed, as he tested his hands, making fists.

“Says who?” You asked him teasingly. “So, who is on the lineup?”

Will handed you the list of fighters that were supposed to be there. As you looked at the list, you noticed the first fight Benny had was against Brian Holden… Your ex.

You snorted. Loudly.

Move on

Needle and the thread

“What? What’s so funny?” Benny asked watching her reaction.

“Just... do me a favor. Your first fight? Make sure you not only win, but make sure it hurts,” She requested handing the list back to Will.

He glanced at the list and chuckled when he recognized the name. The match was in a few minutes and he had a feeling he was going to enjoy it.

Gotta get you outta my head

Gonna wind up dead

They walked out and as Benny was announced, you and the guys made your way to your seats upfront. Benny got in the cage with your ex and you were snickering.

Will leaned over as the fight began, and stated, “He really likes you, you know?”

You turned to face with a smile, “I like him a lot too. He makes me very happy.”

“He… he falls pretty hard, pretty fast. Do me a favor? Don’t break his heart, yeah?” Will requested.

“I don’t plan too,” You assured him, turning your attention back to the match, to cheer Benny on.

“WHOOOO! GO BENNY!” You cheered as Benny landed several hits onto Brian.

“They don’t allow chairs, or anything do they?” You asked all of three of them.

The three of them laughed, before Frankie, as you found out, “No. It’s not wrestling. It’s MMA, there is a bit more class here.”

“Damn. Oh well,” You said, in mock disappointment.

The fight took about 15 minutes and Benny came out on top. As Benny stepped out, he walked over to them and you hugged him in congrats.

“You did great!” You tell him.

You looked him over really quickly and noticed he had a busted lip.

“Ooh. Ouch. Does that hurt?” You ask him, digging into your bag.

He goes to answer but stopped when he watches you pull out a small med-bag.

“You.. came prepared I see?” Benny noted with a smile.

“Just… some small things. Is that weird?” You asked concerned.

“No. No it’s not weird. Let’s get to the locker room and you can tend to me,” Benny tells her appreciating the gesture.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees (falling on my knees)

A couple hours later, and few more scrapes, the tournament was over. Benny came in first and was super happy. The five of you made your way to a local bar, and order food and drinks.

“So. What do ya think of my fighting skills now?” Benny asked taking a drink of beer, basking in his win.

“Mh. You’re good. Could be better,” You teased, hiding your smile in your drink.

“OhHo! What?” Benny exclaimed pulling you to him, his hands running up your sides, tickling you.

You laughed loudly, as you squirmed away.

“Brian used to make me watch all sorts of MMA tournaments. Said it helped him get in the zone or something. I always thought it was kind of boring to be honest,” You admitted once he finally stopped.

“And now?” Benny prompted.

“I… could find a reason or two to find it enjoyable… So long as I’m not patching you up every time you forget to dodge or block a very obvious punch,” You stated with a raised eyebrow.

The guys laughed at that and as Benny dramatically clutched at his heart.

As they talked, someone strolled up next to you.

“Thought you hated fighting?” Came the somewhat nasally voice of your ex, Brian.

“No. I thought it was boring because you never bothered to explain anything. Plus. You always felt the need to interrupt my study time with a match that I just ‘had to watch.’ There’s a difference,” You replied annoyed, not even bothering to look at him.

“Don’t be a bitch. So, what you are with this asshole now?” Brian questioned, grabbing you and making you turn.

You moved to shove his hand off of you, but Will got in between you two, shoving him away. Benny also, moved to place you behind him.

“Get out. You put your hands on her again, and a busted nose will be the least of your concerns,” Will threatened.

Brian turned, acting like he was going to leave before, he swiftly turned back throwing a punch. Will dodged easily. All four of them were gearing up for a throw down but you were sick of it already.

You reached into your medical bag and pulled out your scalpel.

“BRIAN!” You shouted his name to get his attention.

He turned to you and paused when he saw the knife in your hand.

“As you very well know, I am very good with this small sharp object. Get away from me now. Stay away from me. Or I will CUT you,” You warned him brandishing it to him.

He stared at you for a moment before quickly moving away, tripping over a chair as he did so.

You put the knife back into your bag, and all four of the guys stared at you.

“What?” You asked innocently.

Benny reacted first, with loud laughter. “That… that was hot. Terrifying. But hot.”

The others shook their heads and retook their seats.

“Appears, your girl doesn’t need a knight Benny. She can handle herself quite well,” Santi remarked.

“Yeah. She’s more of a knight than you are,” Frankie teased.

“Oh yeah. What does that make me then?” Benny demanded as he pressed a kiss to your face, wrapping his arms around you.

You looked at the guys, and they you, all four of you stating at the same time, “Jester.”

You all laughed at Benny’s pout, and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“But a very cute Jester,” You try to placate.

“That sounds too similar to “very cute moose,”” He said suspiciously.

“You… remember that line from Princess Diaries 2? Really?” You asked with a giggle.

“It was the funniest part of the movie,” He mumbled looking away.

“Wait… You got him to watch what now?” Santi asked.

The rest of the evening was spent talking about some of your previous dates, while the guys told you funny stories.

You enjoyed the evening and looked forward to more dates and nights out with all of them. Benny came into your life unexpectantly but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

And now that I'm without your kisses (without you)

I'll be needing stitches (and I'll be needing stitches)

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help (begging baby please)

#benny miller #benny miller x reader #Triple Frontier #song fic

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spaceguybob · 4 years

Text

Oniwaka in the Mountains - Date scenario / Fanfiction - PART 3 FINAL

Later that day, you felt something that only could have been described as divine exhaustion. Oniwaka seemed much calmer and cheerful, his eyes following you everywhere like a cat, even caught him standing right behind you a few times when you turned around. He would flash you the biggest grin and find an excuse why he is behind you. Then you decided to let him do whatever he wants and waited, soon after the floor behind you creek, and a pair of big hands enveloped you from behind with his warm breath on your neck. You felt happy.

After preparing food, which was hard considering you had a big Oni glued to your back trying to interrupt everything you were doing, you and Oniwaka sat down to eat. After your very, very long shower, you both changed into loose t-shirts and lounge shorts, and you were amazed how much bigger and bulkier he looks in a simple white t-shirt. Dangerously handsome.

"You alright? You have been staring at my t-shirt all the time. What? Don't you like it?" Oniwaka asked confused trying to read your expression. "I'll just take it off then..." He started pulling the material up but you stopped him and explained. Your face turned bright red as you mumbled it out. Oniwaka picked your chin with his hand to look directly in your eyes.

"So... I should keep wearing it and then take it off when we are alone, is that what you are saying?" He replied with a sly smile and laughed when you started protesting it was not what you meant. But he knew exactly what you meant, and from that moment he would do everything to catch your gaze.

"Why are you embarrassed?" He asked at some point seeing you blush again.

Of course, you were embarrassed, and you knew Oniwaka did all those things to make it worse. You decided to take the initiative and you pushed him up the wall, which was hard considering Oni was a mountain of muscle but he didn't resist at all.

"Now what?" He said with a low teasing voice.

"You... You make me... Ugh!" Oniwaka smiled at your lack of words.

"You are so beautiful and handsome in every way and I love you!" You finally said and your words had an immediate effect on the Oni who started blushing himself and tried to wriggle away from your weak grasp. It felt a bit like holding a wardrobe that was about to fall.

"Why are you embarrassed?" You asked this time giving him a taste of his own medicine. But Oniwaka wasn't going to be teased that easily, besides he was much stronger than you so he easily grabbed you and picked up.

"Just... Just shut up" he said with a nervous laugh landing a kiss on your lips.

Once the food was served you are slowly joking and talking, Oniwaka would tease you, especially about the rice balls which you spent hours making to have them look like small animals.

"I wouldn't mind having food like this every day of my life." He added with his mouth full.

"Cute and fluffy? It does take a while to prepare..."

"No. With you." He replied slowly. You couldn't stop smiling after that. After the food was finished Oniwaka seemed even more relaxed, it was something you already noticed early. He loved his food and after eating a good meal would be happy.

With a small surprise ready you asked the Oni to maybe see if there are any board games around. While he was busy with that you washed the dishes and prepared tea.

Choji was very kind with helping you and the treats you brought with you could make anyone dizzy.

Coming back to the main room you saw Oniwaka being excited over a Go game board, then he looked at you carrying a tray and quickly got up excited.

"What do you have here?" On the tray, you prepared a plate with dango and mochi together with some of the special fruit butter and a drink for both of you. "Wha-! Oh man, I didn't have dango in years!" He stole a skewer before you even managed to lay the tray on the floor between you.

"Hey! Manners!" You jest at him with a pretend frow. Oniwaka just shrugs innocently with his mouth full then points at the Go board.

"I challenge you to... Mmm.. uhh... A go game" he said chewing.

You always enjoyed playing Go with Shiro who was good at it and would kick your ass whenever possible at it. Happily, you accepted the challenge, and you both spent an evening getting excited over who is going to win. At one point you managed to win three times in a row only for Oniwaka to take you easily in a next round. In the end, it was a tie between the scores. The Oni rubbed his hands a few times pleased and then stated he will prepare the bed. There was no argument at all that you are going to sleep together, and Oniwaka pulled out the largest futon he could find and set up the bed.

Meanwhile, you cleaned the rest of the dishes and turned most of the lights out. The outside was peaceful and serene as before. Once everything was checked you closed the door and went back to the kitchen to make sure everything is washed or in the fridge.

You heard a grumble and cough, twice now. Oniwaka was trying to get your attention. Already in bed, completely naked with the duvet covering his hips and arms stretched wide in the air, his hands gesticulating for you to come, inviting. And there was this greedy, cheeky smile again. The Oni knew he can get whatever he wanted this way. You quickly undressed, turned off the main light leaving only a small lamp next to the futon and climbed into bed straight into his open arms burrowing your face in Oniwaka's chest. He was both soft and hard, and oh so warm. Within seconds he turned the tables and was laying on top of you, holding your head in his arms kissing your lips, then slowly your jaw and neck. His scruff grew anew since he shaved earlier and was tickling driving you insane. Soon with Oniwaka showering your body with tender kisses, and whispering into your ear how much he loves you, you fall into a long, deep and dreamless sleep.

Through your closed eyelids you could feel the light slowly creeping in, surrounding you.

A large, rough hand caressed your head, moving away from the fair from your face. You stop it before it goes away kissing the inside of the palm. Slowly opening your eyes you realize you aren't in bed at all. But wrapped in a blanket, next to Oniwaka sitting looking at... Oh your heart almost stopped seeing the mountains painted by the gold and crimson colours of the morning sun, another valley opened below before you. Surrounded by the blooming peach trees, it felt unreal. Oniwaka sitting next to you, with a mysterious expression, looking at you. He must have gently carried you to here, at the end of the tranquil valley from where you could see the whole mountain range.

"It's beautiful" You manage only a few words. "It's so beautiful." Rubbing your sleepy eyes, feeling a flush of emotions, trying not to show it. The sun slowly crept up your legs than your arms warming your whole body.

"I... A wish we could live like this... Together." You form the words slowly, maybe it's because your mind is still foggy and it all feels like a dream, but you say it anyway.

"Forever?" Oniwaka asks nervously rubbing the side of his hand. "Would... Would you like to be with me forever?"

"Y- yes!" You answer without hesitation reaching for his hand.

"I... Ah... I'm angry with myself. I wanted to..." Oniwaka was struggling to say why he felt getting angry on himself. "I... ah... thought about this for a long time and... It's nothing much because I'm really short on money but... "

He hands you a small wrapping he kept hidden away, his large hands trembling slightly and his face very red at this point.

"Would... Ah... I would like to watch the sunrise every morning with you from now on." Oniwaka says looking directly in your eyes, holding your hand, waiting nervously for you to open the wrapping. Feeling a hot flush in your chest, you unwrap the box and within it, you find a very simple silver ring, with a lapis lazuli insert, polished to perfection, glimmering and changing colours in the morning sun. The Oni bit his lip nervously unsure what to do, you were unsure what to do, what to say.

"Oniwaka... I..." You start slowly holding the ring. Shocked and at the loss of words.

"You don't have to... If you don't want to." He interrupts you halfway. "I...I'm sorry... I'm an idiot." He turns his head away fidgeting slightly, but you pull the large hand to get his attention back.

"Hey, can I say something first?" You squeeze his palm.

The Oni glares at you with red eyes and a grey face.

"Oniwaka Houzouin, you make my heart very happy, You big idiot. Of course, I want to see the sunrise with you every morning, and see the moon set every night."

The shock on Oniwaka's face was so damn cute you had to smile, then passing him the ring you suggested he should put it on your finger. The Oni gently took the ring and slid it on, wrapping his both hands around your and kissing your palm, and your fingers. Then leaning towards to taste your lips with a smug expression.

"I made coffee while you were sleeping." He reached for a thermos and two mugs that were sitting next to him all along. You gladly take the coffee, filling the warm liquid fill your mouth and then the heat spread pleasantly through the body, cleansing the night fog.

"Hey... Listen." Oniwaka started with a softer voice, his eyes looking directly into yours. "Be patient with me, okay? I've never been close to anyone, I don't know how to behave. It's strange being just two of us... But at least now I don't have to... you know, worry about what I feel. And I can be there for you, and watch you sleep."

You smiled gently, and then move closer to him, having his arm around your neck, both looking at the sunrise.

#Oniwaka #housamo #fanfiction #toko afterschool summoners #tokyoafterschoolsummoners #romance

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

OC test: Flex

[Not in the literal term. All the boys here will simply show off their style and charm in an attempt to steal some hearts and blush some faces.]

Kovu:So in other words...

Sparrow:Eye candy. Crank up that testosterone the best way you know.

Jael:A bunch of shirtless guys sounds boring.

Eliza:You heard the woman. Be bold and unbuckle those pants!

Jael:No! Not at all what I meant!

Jacquelyn: *turning away* (Probably for the best if I don’t witness this.)

Carmine and Valerie:....

Yujin:*red* Doesn’t this seem shameful?

Summer and Veronica:Shhhhhh

Veronica:Oh yeah, should we get the guy out of tree then?

Carmine:What guy?

Veronica:The guy I smell in the tree. He’s been there awhile. He has the scent of a bird.

An eerie silence falls amongst the group. Carmine slowly turns towards the tree, shooting a death glare. She takes a massive lunge towards it. Aero immediately emerged from the top, flying out of reach from Carmine’s very lethal hands.

Carmine:Who told you that you can be here, huh Aero!?

Aero:Oh quit with the theatrics. I know you’re happy to see me.

Carmine:Say that within arms reach!

Aero:No...

Nick:Who that?

Summer:And what’s his number?

Kovu:That would be Aero. He probably snuck in when I was let inside. His semblance has a way of catching people off gaurd, making it easy to pull a fast one on them. Hi Aero.

Aero:Hey goodie goodie. Mind doing some good and pulling the thorns off of this rose.

Kovu:Carmine, he’s not gonna leave. Might as well suck it up and let him be.

Carmine:I’ll let him be injured and begging for mercy. That’s what I’ll let him be.

Yujin:Wasn’t there supposed to be a test going on?

Eliza:Well one guy has already started.

Yujin:What? Who-oh my goodness! Tenzen! *red*

The street performer had removed his shirt when nobody was looking, then out on an opened hoodie. Tenzen’s abs were on full display with his broad, strong chest. His pants were replaced with shorts that showed off his toned calves. He put up the fox ear hood and casually drunk a water bottle. As usual, Tenzen looked playful, yet overwhelming attractive. It didn’t help that his shorts hung a little lower than they should’ve.

Tenzen:What?! Too stupid?

Eliza:The only stupid thing here is how your body looks like a mannequin. I know dancing makes you fit but sheesh.

Tenzen:It’s the martial arts.

Veronica:Nice.

Sparrow:Oh we’re starting? I guess I can show a bit of skin. After all, a sailor isn’t a sailor if he isn’t drenched and showing off.

Under these rules, Sparrow felt a little bad for the others. He was the guy here that could be considered truly grown. That maturity came with knowledge in many things. Charm was one of them. His hands pulled off his shirt fluidly. A stroke of his hand running through his hair not only showed off his trained body, it flexed his biceps. Unlike Tenzen, Sparrow had a body that was bulked up. Muscles were beefed up and made to form a temple that was hard as stone. His diabolical brown scruff and brown tanned skin gave Sparrow a rugged look that Jacquelyn sneak a peak and Eliza gulp the moment his other hand casually hung from his right pocket. Even Carmine was surprised by the older man.

Carmine:Wow, a shirt hid all that? You bench logs or something?

Sparrow:The military doesn’t train weaklings you know?

Eliza:(Eight years. Just give about eight years Sparrow.)

Kovu:My, my, that looks fun. But not as fun as that white haired cutie.

Summer:M-Me!?

Kovu:*flies down* I know a face like that anywhere. Who would’ve thought a Schnee would have such kind eyes? Not an icy glare at all. *rubs her face* You got a name?

Summer:I, uhh, yeah! I mean who doesn’t. Hehe wow you’re really umm close. Wait, my name! You’re probably still waiting for-

Nick:It’s Summer; and if you’re looking for the Schnee icy glare then look my way.

The chill of a glare sharper than any sword pierced right through Aero as he saw the white haired boy. Yeah, he’s definitely a Schnee. He respectfully stopped touching Summer and stood before Nick.

Aero:Cold, dagger like glare, white hair, and short. Yeah, you’re Weiss’s kid alright. How cute...

Nick:Call me short again and I’ll cut you down.

Carmine:As much as I would love to see that, Aero might be a little much for ya unprepared. Case in point, he’s not in front of you.

Nick raised an eyebrow and blinked. In that moment, Aero was gone. The boy was standing by Eliza, pinching her cheeks.

Eliza:Ow! How did you-

Aero:You’re a familiar looking face. Between your hair color and skin tone I almost thought Mona was here. I bet-

Carmine:No.

Aero:Well that’s the end of that I guess.

Eliza:Stop pinching me!!!!

Sienna:He’s a bit of a weird one.

Jael:The word is rude. He’s giving me a headache. Not to mention dragging out this test.

Aero:Hmm? What, the sexy thing. I thought that was over. I mean I’m here and everything. Y’all fighting for second place?

Sparrow:Hmph.

Veronica:That’s confidence you don’t see regularly.

Valerie:Call it like it is. He just shit talked every guy here into bringing their A-game.

Kovu:Oh Aero, you dummy. If you wanted me to play with you so badly then you just had to ask nicely...

The air in the room quickly changed. The two boys faced each other and smirked playfully. Kovu dragged his sharp finger nail down his shirt, tearing it. Aero laughed and proceeded to remove his own. Apparently this was a normal thing between the two. The tall boys got closer until Kovu was able to push Aero gently against a wall, wings spread out. Kovu was taller by an inch and buffer. His torso was well defined along with his chest, but the main focus was his arms on each side of Aero. Not only were they big, but each muscle group was blatantly visible. The boys eager eyes were focused in on his cocky younger friend.

Aero casually propped up his foot on the wall and put his hands in his pockets. Aero was no where near as bulky as the beast before him, but he cut to perfection in more ways then one. Faded scar ran across is toned body. The small black gages and wind swept hair only elevated his attitude. Everyone but Carmine were confused about what they were watching.

Valerie:Ummm are they about to make out?

Eliza:*red* I don’t know....but I want to.

Veronica:I think they might do more than make out.

Summer:(I’d pay to be in the middle of this beef sandwich.)

Yujin:Carmine, please explain.

Carmine:Nothing to explain. This happens sometimes. I don’t know why.

Tenzen:KISS!!!

Aero:They’re totally looking more at me than you.

Kovu:Bitch you wish you were this sexy. Don’t let those little girls in Vacou hype you up too much. They’re easy.

Aero:Don’t talk about your cousin like that.

Carmine:....

Everyone:....

Carmine:.....

Sienna:Y’all fu-

Carmine:YES, MOVING ON NOW. Lucas, take off your pants or something!

Lucas:Nobody wants that.

Sienna and Summer:Well...

Lucas:I am not taking my pants off.

Jael:Wet t-shirt. Then we can put everything behind us.

Jacquelyn:You can try and enjoy this a little sweetie.

Jael:Make this a women challenge and I’d be-... wait, I’d have to participate in that. God this sucks.

Lucas.Tenzen, pass me a water bottle.

Eager to please, Tenzen tosses two. Lucas caught both midair and poured them right onto his face; his white tank becoming completely drenched in the process. The fabric clung to his body, pressing against every crease, every conceivable worked out muscle. The others looked amazing, but Lucs might as well be photoshopped. Was fat even on his body! His back looked strong and legs even more so. Lucas’s hair stuck to his face and he let out a agitated groan. Despite that, it actually made him more appealing to Eliza. Others were admittedly distracted by his body to even notice his face. A xylophone could be played on a body like that.

Tenzen:Damn, I thought I was in shape before today.

Carmine:Aren’t you a shit in?

Lucas:I can still work out, and no. I just don’t deal with people or feel bad about staying in indefinitely.

Jael:A shut in!

Jacquelyn:That’s like...the definition.

Aero:Eh, not bad I guess.

Lucas:Little boy, I can snap you like a twig. Don’t get snippy with me.

Aero:Oooo feisty. Well if we’re done here-

Yujin:Hold on. Nick hasn’t gone yet.

Nick:Can you shut up!!!!

Yujin:Oh, hehe, my bad. I thought you’d be excited?

Nick:Why? I mean...sigh what’s the point? Not in the mood to embarrass myself.

Kovu:What?

Aero:Yeah that’s a smart move. I mean look at him compared to the rest of us. It’s like night and day in here.

Carmine:Aero!

Nick:He’s right. No real muscles, strong features, facial hair, scars, height... just a shrimpy sixteen year old with cash. *Smiles* Honestly I never really seen much good about m-

Valerie:Oh give me break. Do you really think any guy could hold a candle to you!? You’re caring, quirky, driven, and humble to a fault. Nick you’re so-

Nick:*wide eyed*....

Valerie:*red*Ummm y-you get the point. So don’t even think about discrediting yourself.

Nick:I uhhh appreciate the compliments, but those traits are exactly a flex or considered sexy.

Veronica:Lies!!! What’s sexier than a caring young man!

Nick:Abs.

Eliza:Oh for the love of-you’re all ridiculous.

She marches over to Nick and grabs him by the collar. Her hand rises to slick his hair back to clearly show of his beautifully tired eyes and gentle face, unmarked by anything but except self inflicted stress. It’s a shame he wasn’t feeling competitive. He may not know it, but that always captured a room. Eliza took off his vest and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. The crowd was left stunned by the simple transformation. He looked more regal than usual, yet casual.

Eliza:Sexy doesn’t mean naked dummy. And as far as physical traits go...*red* there’s a reason all the girls flock to you. You’re...annoyingly handsome. Some might even say pretty.

Nick:*blushes*

Eliza:And then you do that! Can we agree Nick wins and move on!?

Everyone:Yeah.

Aero:I guess I’ll take second.

Lucas:You mean third.

Kovu:He actually meant fourth.

Aero:Rude.

Carmine:Good.

#rwby #rwbabies #my ocs #oc test

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midnigtartist · 5 years

Text

so me and @millimauk made a mermaid au and its wholesome and very self indulgent

Certainly Caleb must be alive. If he were dead he’s sure his body wouldn’t ache as much as it does.

And oh does he ache

His muscles are sore and his chest feels as if it's full of lead, lungs still burning with each fresh breath he takes. The back of his throat is sore and his eyes sting behind his eyelids from the bitter bite of salt water that had been his whole encompassing reality just moments ago.

It is lucky, then, that the sea decided to spit him back up, and wash him back onto the shore, or surely he would have drowned. The sun is hot on his face and he can feel the waves lapping up against his calves as he lay there in the soft, wet sand, too exhausted to move.

However, it seems his body has different plans as his stomach churns up the last of the sea water he’d swallowed. With a retching cough, Caleb bolts up and heaves out the last of the brine. The effort of the movement makes his already sore chest ache but Caleb doesn’t stop until he’s emptied his stomach onto the beach. It’s there, gasping for breath and shaking as if with a fever, alone and battered on the empty beach, that he feels a hand touch his shoulder. His heavy limbs screaming their disapproval as he jumps at the contact, sending up a spray of sea water.

There’s a person sat beside him on the sand. A person so unlike anyone he’s ever seen before. With pale lavender skin and curling, sodden plum colored hair, and solid, swirling scarlet eyes, glassy and with no discernable pupil. He’s long and lean down the length of his scarred torso, all the way down to the end of his long, brightly colored tail. Delicate fins fan out along the length of it and Caleb can’t help but stare. On any other day, he would have said he was hallucinating, that the heat of the sun and the almost drowning was causing him to see things. Like strikingly handsome mermaids- mermen? But he’s sure this person isn't some vision brought on by heat stroke. Because this person is the reason he’d been out in the water in the first place. He remembers spying someone sitting out on the rocky bluff, remembers them turning and diving into the water and he had been so sure he’d seen a flash of scales as they’d disappeared. He remembers thinking “this is it” as he’d dropped his equimentent on the sand and wading out into the water, only to be caught by the undertow and dragged out to sea.

He’s spent so long searching for mermaids and, apparently, one has just saved his life.

There are a million things he wants to ask, so many questions that would put him leaps and bounds ahead in his research. Things he could show his colleges to prove that, no, he isn’t crazy or naive. But it seems,,,, rude somehow,,, to just dive into the questioning. After all, this man just saved him from what certainly would have been a watery death.

The mermaid is watching him carefully with those red eyes that seem to glow.

Does the color help him sea underwater?

His throat is thick and dry, but Caleb forces himself to form the words. “Ahh- are you the one who pulled me out of the water?”

The mermaid nods, smiling rather proudly at Caleb.

“Well thank you for that. I fear that I would have sank to the bottom of the sea if it weren’t for you so, ja, thank you.” Again the mermaid merely nods, so Caleb presses on. “My name is Caleb- ahh- Caleb Widogast. And you are? I would like to know the name of my savior so I can thank you properly.”

The mermaid opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a harsh, rasping screech that causes Caleb to flinch. The mermaid quickly shuts his mouth, face slipping from a kind smile to a furrowed brow. Caleb blinks “Can you not speak?” he asks.

The mermaid shakes his head.

“Are you hurt?”

Again the mermaid shakes his head, pointing to thin slits running the line of his throat, then to the ocean.

It doesn’t take long for Caleb to connect the dots.

“Oh! Oh I see ahh, you cannot- cannot speak outside of the water, ja?” he says.

The mermaid nods vigorously, glad, it seems, that Caleb understands.

Cale finds himself nodding along with him, his youthful glee returning tenfold as he stares intently at the gill flaps that twitch along the mermaid’s neck.

“That is fascinating” he breathes. “You’re vocal cords are not designed for air, it seems. Perhaps they are connected to your gills? Or water passing through them is what allows them to resonate? No, that cannot be it,, Maybe the density of the water lowers to the pitch to something more understandable-”

The mermaid's shoulders start to shake, and for one heart stopping moment Caleb fears he might be suffocating but a quick glances at his scrunched up and smiling face shows that he’s shaking with silent laughter.

The tips of Caleb ears burn with a blush. “I ahhh- I suppose I was rambling ja?” he mutters, ducking his head a bit.

The mermaid waves him off with an elegant hand, eyes all crinked up in the corners with mirth.

Caleb chuckles a bit himself. “Sorry. I do not mean to be rude it's just- you are exactly what I have been looking for.” The mermaid’s eyes go round and wide. Caleb rushes to continue. “Well not you specifically but ahhh- someone like you. I am, well, I do research on the ocean and the things that live in it, and I have been sure for a very long time now that someone like you existed. And well, here you are,,,”

He’s everything Caleb had imagined and then some.

The mermaid, and he's going to have to find a way to get this person’s name because it feels cold and clinical to simply refer to him as- the mermaid, takes a moment to mull this over, taking Caleb in with a sharp, discerning gaze.

Then he grins and shoves his hand into Caleb’s face. He spread his fingers wide, showing off the webbing between them, thin like the webbing of his fins in a darker shade of lavender then his skin is. Carefully, Caleb takes his offered wrist in hand and gently turns it.

“Incredible” he mummers, more to himself then the mermaid. Though the webbing looks as fine as lace it seems rather durable. He supposes it would have to be, in order to propelle him through the water. It also probably means that he swims as much with his arms as he does with his tail, which would debunk Caleb’s theory that the tail is the sole form of propulsion. There’s so much information to be gained here. He wonders of this mermaid would be willing to let him sketch him into his notes.

He’s so busy pondering all of this that it startles him when the mermaid snatches his hand from his loose grip and takes Caleb’s wrist instead. Caleb jumps at the feeling of cool, strangely rough finger pads against his skin. The mermaid spreads his fingers wide, a strangling noise of surprise rising up from his throat when he pulls them apart and finds no webbing between. His baffled gaze flickers up to catch Caleb’s eyes.

Caleb lets out a huff of laughter. “Ja, I suppose this is weird for you too. Well, I suppose it is only fair that you be able to conduct a bit of research yourself.” he blinks up at him. Caleb offers him a small smile, and nods. “Ja ja go ahead and poke around, though I do not think I am anywhere as interesting as you.”

Now given permission, the mermaid flashes Caleb a smile, one that is all sharp, pointed teeth, Caleb notes, before he turned towards Caleb’s feet. One of his boots must have been lost to the waves as his left foot sits there, bare on the sand. In a flash the mermaid reaches out and grabs hold of his ankle, pulling it towards himself. The movement is so quick and so strong that Caleb is sent cerneening onto his back.

The mermaid bends his knee and rolled his ankle, and stretches his leg, making little surprised squeals as he does. Caleb has to admit, it feels a tad invasive, but also fair, somehow. Yes, it is only right that information be shared between the two of them. How often is it that two like them should cross paths, after all. This is an amazing opportunity to learn from one another. So he lets the mermaid wiggling leg about and poke at his toes and even smell his foot at one point which must have been incredibly foul if the look of utter disgust on his face is anything to go by. It makes Caleb smile. Though he lacks a voice, the mermaid is incredibly expressive, almost endearingly so. Eventually, he release Caleb’s leg, letting drop back into the surf.

“Have you finished your investigation?” he asks.

The mermaid shakes his head, no, and points at his chest.

“Are you curious how it is I breath?” he asks, excitement mounting once more. “Because I am quite fascinated by your respiratory system as well. We are hardly in more than a foot of water and yet you do not seem to be struggling at all. Maybe it is that your body is better at absorbing at maintaining oxygen? Or-”

The mermaid cuts him off with a firm shake of his head. He reaches down to tug at Caleb’s shirt, still wet and clinging to him. Caleb blinks.

“You are aah- You are interested in my clothes?”

He nods, tugging more insistently at the hem of his shirt now. Caleb can’t help but flush.

“I uhh ja I suppose that it is alright. It is nothing special though, just a shirt,,,,”

Certainly this is all in the name of science, he tells himself, even as the mermaid tugs his shirt open enough to expose his chest. Even if he feels a bit self conscious as the mermaid runs a hand curiously over the hair peeking out. It is in the name of good research that he drags his fingers over his clavicle and up his neck to his jaw where a fine layer of scruff is starting to grow in, making little noises of surprise as he does. Turning Caleb's jaw and leaning in close, so close that Caleb can see the moisture on his skin. It’s scientific, completely and utterly scientific.

But even science has his limits and when the mermaid starts to tug at the waistband of his trousers, he all but leaps up, batting the others hand away.

Nien nien umm - I would prefer if you didn’t um- there” he says quickly, his face bright crimson.

The mermaid raises his hands up in surrender, confused, its seems, but apologetic.

Caleb lets out a shaky sigh, pushing the hair back from his face. “It’s alright, I do not blame you for your curiosity but ahhh- if you are really interested in- down there, Im sure I have some books on- on that,,,,”

The mermaid nods slowly, pressing a finger to his mouth. He then twists around so that his long, vibrantly colored tail comes to lay across Caleb’s lap. He flicks his fingers at him as if to say ‘go on’. Caleb chuckles shyly, and shakes his head.

“Nein, danken but no. That is alright. Getting to meet you has been ahh- has been a wonderful experience in itself. I am only sorry I was not able to learn your name. Unless,,,” he trails off, reaching a hand into the back pocket of his trousers and producing a small book wrapped in leather.

He’d thought it unnecessary when Beaurgard had gifted him the waterproof slip for his journal but now he could not be happier to have had it. He slips it out from it case and undoes the cord. The mermaid leans in close, watching him thumb through the mostly dry pages.

“Perhaps there is something in here that will help you to tell me your name.” he says, holding the book out so his companion can see the pages as well.

He turns them slowly, watching the mermaid’s face carefully for any signs of recognition. After a dozen pages or so, he presses a finger into the page, pointing at a sketch of an albatross.

“Albatross?” Caleb asks. Certainly a strange name but who is he to judge. The mermaid shakes his head. “Gull?” Caleb tries. Another no. He runs a hand thoughtfully over his beard. “Mollymauk perhaps?”

The mermaid nods furiously, pointing at the drawing again, and then at himself.

“Mollymauk” Caleb says slowly and Mollymauk beams. “That is a very nice name. It has been very nice getting to know you, Mollymauk.”

#midnigtwrites #widomauk #wm mermaid au #dont @ me im tender

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